Of Dragons and Thrones, a tale of Winter (BEING REWRITTEN!)
by Direwolf94
Summary: The Last Dragonborn, Draco Vitellius, is sent on a quest to Westeros. He and his allies must not only find 'Azor Ahai' reborn and put an end to the White Walkers that are returning after centuries, Draco must also tame the newborn dragons that have awoken. How well will the Dragonborn play the cruel Game of Thrones?
1. Summoning

Of Dragons and Thrones, a Tale of Winter

Draco Vitellius was a man in his late 20s, with short black hair and a trimmed black beard, well built and strong. Everything he wore, he had made himself, hours of hard work showing in some of the finest crafting this land had ever seen. His armor, which he had dubbed the Dragon carved armor, was heavily inspired by the Nordic carved armor found on Solstheim. The only differences between his armor and the Nordic variant was that it didn't have the black fur of the Nordic carved armor, and had a Dragon theme to it as opposed to the heavy Nordic theme. His armor was truly one of a kind, which had protected him in the last fights of his grand adventure. The Ring of Hircine, which he had gained in the course of helping a man called Sinding, adorned his left hand. From his neck hung an amulet in the shape of a dragon skull, made from real dragonbone. Over his armor, he wore a cloak he had fashioned out of the pelt of a cave bear he had slain early in his travels. On his back, he held the weight of his dragonsteel bow and a quiver full of dragonsteel arrows. The only things he carried that were not made by himself were the two weapons sheathed on his waist: to his right, the Blade of Woe, taken from Astrid after she used herself to perform the Black Sacrament, and, to his left, Dragonbane, the legendary sword he had claimed when he and the Blades had entered Sky Haven Temple.

Because Draco Vitellius was not a normal man. No, he was what people called a Dragonborn, and what dragons called _Dovahkiin_ : a mortal with the soul of a dragon. Five years before, he had been a man about to be beheaded just because he had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, only to be saved, ironically, by the arrival of the World Eater, Alduin, who wanted to kill him. It was not until he helped the Whiterun guards slain the dragon known as Mirmulnir that he learned he was the Dragonborn, being summoned by the Greybeards to High Hrothgar: the Greybeards had helped him as he embarked on a journey to stop Alduin. It had not been easy, particularly with the Stormcloak Rebellion ongoing. He had, in the end, managed to put an end to that Rebellion, which had made Alduin stronger with every soldier slain, and finally he killed the dragon in single combat.

However, his current situation did not seem to have much in common with that past. Paarthurnax, the dragon that lead the Greybeards, had summoned him to the home of the Greybeards in the Throat of the World, wishing to speak with him about an important matter. Arriving after walking the long winding path, he was welcomed by Arngeir, who led him to the word wall, where Paarthurnax and Odahviing - the dragon he had convinced to ally with him in his quest to defeat Alduin.

" _Drem yol lok_ , greetings," Paarthurnax immediately said, his voice with a slight hint of worry. "I apologize for summoning you so unexpectedly, but there is a matter I must speak to you about."

" _Krosis mid fahdon_ , but has something happened?" he asked.

" _Vrah_ , indeed. A very dire matter has arose. Tell me, what do you know of the continent of Westeros?"

"Westeros? Isn't that the continent to the east of Tamriel?" Not many knew about the large continent that stood weeks away in even the fastest of ships to the east, about as many as the distance to the continent of Essos. Travel between both continents was very limited as a result, and there were few, if any, connections between both. As such, there was no bad blood between the Empire and the Seven Kingdoms.

"Yes. Ages ago, when the Dovah ruled Tamriel, men had settled there. Their rule was peaceful until the Long Night came, a winter that lasted more than a generation. Then the White Walkers, or Others, descended upon Westeros from the Lands of Always Winter: any that were killed were raised as wights, similar to Draugr. Men fought back for a long time, and, with the help of beings known as the Children of the Forest, managed to drive them out of the realm. The one that would be called 'the Builder' constructed a mighty wall that, still to this day, keeps the Others out of the realm."

"So you believe these Others are returning?" Draco half stated, half asked. Paarthurnax would not have summoned him if it was not important, and he would not have told Draco the story of the Others if they were not returning.

"With certainty," the old dragon replied.

"So what must I do?"

"You must go to Westeros and find the one who is prophesized to defeat them, the one known as 'Azor Ahai'. The prophecy reads **'There will come a day after a long summer when the stars bleed and the cold breath of darkness falls heavy on the world. In this dread hour, a warrior shall draw from the fire a burning sword. And that sword shall be Lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes, and he who clasps it shall be Azor Ahai come again, and the darkness shall flee before/strong him'**."

"Very well. I will set sail for Westeros once I have gathered allies," Draco eagerly stated. It had been a while before he had embarked on a journey, the last time being when he defeated Miraak and saved Solstheim nearly two years ago. Truth be told, Skyrim had become quite boring. With that, Draco began heading back down the mountain.

" _Saraan Dovahkiin_ , there is another matter I must speak with you about." Paarthurnax said, stopping Draco.

Draco turned around to face the elderly dragon.

"What is this other matter?"

"In _myem hadriidak_ , I have sensed the awakening of new life. _Dovah_ life."

Draco found himself looking straight into Paarthurnax's eyes, his own widened not with fear, but with curiosity and interest.

"Dragons? What kind of dragons?"

This time it was Odahviing who spoke

"At ease, _Dovahkiin_. They are _yunkiin_ , just recently hatched. I can sense them as well."

"You must not only find Azor Ahai reborn, but you must also help tame the newborn _Dovah_." Paarthurnax said.

"I shall do so. I will only need to find friends that are willing to stand with me."

 **Lakeview Manor**

Ella Vitellius, Draco's younger sister by nearly nine years, was fletching arrows for her practice: she was probably the best archer in all of Tamriel, even better than Aela of the Companions, and while she also knew how to use a dagger quite effectively, she rather preferred the feeling of the bowstring in her fingers.

Fletching her last arrow, she grabbed her ebony bow and her quiver - full with around 200 ebony arrows - and moved to the archery range, where she practiced her targetting. All of her shots hit the center of the targets. It was as she finished shooting her last arrow that she heard the roar of a dragon. Her first instinct had been to hide until she could retrieve her arrows, but she soon recognized the dragon's roar and red color... and its rider: Odahviing had brought her brother back from High Hrothgar.

" _Nox hi dii fahdorn_ ," Draco said as he jumped off the red dragon.

" _Dii genazend_ " Odahviing replied, and with a beat of his wings began flying back to the Throat of the World. Ella hung her bow on her back and approached her brother.

"What did the Greybeards want?"

"It was actually Paarthurnax who called me. He says that there is a growing threat of what he calls 'The Others', akin to Draugr, in the continent of Westeros. He asked me to sail there and help put an end to the threat." Draco paused for a few moments, considering something else, before speaking up. "He said he has also sensed the awakening of newborn dragons."

That last part really caught Ella's attention. These Others were, no doubt, important, but any matter related to dragons would probably be Draco's top priority: not only was he the Dragonborn, but dragons had not been born in centuries. She instantly made up her mind on what to do.

"When do we leave?"

"Within a few weeks. I have a couple stops I need to make before we depart."

 **Dawnstar Sanctuary**

After buying several needed things, Draco and Ella left for Dawnstar, in order to visit the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary: Draco figured that Nazir would be very useful in this travel, because an assassin was bound to be useful, and even though he was the Listener and leader of the Dark Brotherhood, Draco knew his sneaking abilities were something best left forgotten: he preferred fighting face to face, anyway.

As soon as they reached their destination, the two siblings got off their horses, and Draco walked over to the door.

"What is life's greatest illusion?" the black door asked in its almost sinister whisper.

"Innocence, my brother," Draco immediately answered, using the same password that had been in place when he joined the assassins' guild.

"Welcome home." The black door opened and allowed Draco inside the sanctuary. Within, he saw Cicero tending to the Night Mother, Babette was brewing potions on the alchemy table - standing on a stool to reach everything - and Nazir was sitting at the table, drinking and reading a book. Draco walked over and sat across from Nazir.

"Well, well. If it isn't the Listener. Come to share a story about your latest kill?" Nazir asked.

"No, but there is something I would like to discuss with you," Draco said, chuckling.

Nazir raised an eyebrow.

"What is it?"

"Would you be interested in traveling to Westeros?"

Nazir's face twisted into one of confusion.

"Westeros? Why, in the name of Sithis do you need to travel there?"

"My master senses newborn dragon life and wants me to investigate. He also senses a force of ice and death."

"Ice Draugr?"

"He called them 'The Others', but what he described did sound a lot like them."

"You can count me in. Besides, it'll mean getting away from that crazy jester," Nazir said, pointing to Cicero. While Nazir respected Cicero's abilities and position as Keeper, the jester's lunacy drove him insane at times.

"Grab everything you think you will need, and we'll head out."

 **Windhelm Docks**

After leaving Babette in charge of the Sanctuary during both his and Draco's absence, Nazir had joined the Vitellius siblings in their travel. It took a week for them to reach Windhelm, from where Draco expected to find passage east.

"Know anyone who can get us to Westeros?" Nazir asked as the trio rode along Windhelm's port.

"Of course I do. I know everyone of importance," Draco replied, before turning toward one of the ships. "Gjalund!"

A Nord on the closest ship (a very large one) turned upon being called, and smiled and wved when he saw the caller.

"Greetings, Draco! Do you need to travel somewhere?"

"Yes. How long will it take to get to Westeros?"

"About a month. Where in Westeros do you need to go?" Gjalund answered.

"I need to find some information, so the capital would be the best place to start."

"King's Landing it is. That will take an extra week, and that's if we are lucky with the winds."

Draco pulled out a large coin purse.

"Will 1,000 septims be enough?"

"That's more than enough for me," Gjalund answered, waving them in. "We will leave as soon as the tide begins to lower. Are you all set?"

"Yes, we are," Draco replied, getting off his horse and guiding it to come on board. Nazir and Ella followed suit, and it was only a few hours later that the _Northern Maiden_ took off under the falling sun, and towards the land of Westeros.

 **A/N:** First of all I want to give a shout out to Milarqui for beta reading for me and helping me expand the first chapter a little bit.

This is a story that has been on my mind for a while now. I tried writing another in the past, but it was absolutely terrible in both plot and writing. This time I have an end goal in mind and I have a much better idea of what I am doing.

Before anyone asks, yes Draco is a werewolf and I can confirm that he will transform at least a few times in this story. I actually already have a scene planned within the next 3 or 4 chapters where he will transform

 **Next Time:**

 **Draco and the others arrive in King's Landing**

 **Draco shows off his skill with a blade**


	2. Tamriel and Westeros

**Sunset Sea**

The _Northern Maiden_ soon took course towards King's Landing, reaching the continent of Westeros and moving around the regions known as the Reach, Dorne and the Stormlands. Fortunately, the winds had favored them in their journey, so their travel was faster than what Gjalund had predicted. They would arrive to the capital of the Seven Kingdoms within a day.

Right now, Draco was standing at the prow of the ship, gazing onto the sea water. Masser, Secunda and the stars were reflecting off the waters of the Narrow Sea. It was very quiet: the only sounds that could be heard were the groaning of the wood, the water as the ship parted the sea, the flapping of the sails in the cool wind, the sea gulls that prowled the sky while seeking their food... everything was quite calm, but Draco could not sleep, for his memories of his past kept him awake.

He was thinking back to the day when Ella and him lost everyone they loved. Their mother, their father, their brother... murdered, for some reason Draco had never managed to discover. Ella had been nearly killed, too, but Draco had managed to save her before those bastards murdered her, as well. Ella was Draco's last blood family, and, as such, was very protective of her.

"A bit chilly, isn't it?" he heard Ella's voice asking, as she stepped next to him.

"Skyrim is much colder than this, though. This is quite peaceful," Draco replied. He may have been of Imperial blood, but he had grown used to the cold after years of living and traveling across Skyrim.

By the look on his face, Ella knew that something was bothering her brother, and she was pretty sure she knew the reason.

"Thinking about the family again?"

"Yeah." Draco nodded.

Ella remembered that dreadful night, the night that had so changed Draco, a couple of years before he went to Skyrim and started his adventure.

She had awakened to find out their house was burning, an inferno she had never seen in her life. Draco had taken her out of the building and, after finding her a safe spot away, he had taken his blade and charged back into the blaze, completely oblivious to her cries and the blaze that was consuming the only home she had ever known in his fury. When he came out later, his face, sword and clothes were covered in blood, so much that she could barely recognize him. But the scariest part was that he did not have an ounce of remorse in his face, that he seemed to be menacingly satisfied. She would learn later that a group of assassins had started the fire and then stabbed their parents and brother: those had been the ones Draco had killed.

Ever since, his countenance and mood were much angrier than he used to be. She wondered sometimes what exactly Draco did, but she knew she would not like the answer, so she never sought it. While the events of that night had affected her deeply as well, she had managed to make her peace with them: Draco, on the other hand, could only let it eat at him every day. She supposed that it was part of his dragon soul, that he could not let such an affront go unpunished.

She decided this would be a good time to figure out what they would do when they got to King's Landing, allowing her at the same time to change the topic to something less upsetting.

"So, what's the plan when we get to the city?"

"I think it would be a good idea to talk first to the king about these 'Others' Paarthurnax mentioned. While he already told me a little bit about them, it cannot hurt to find more information, particularly if they are as much a threat as Paarthurnax thinks."

"And the dragons?"

Draco considered his answer, but then shook his head.

"That's something we'll have to research on our own, Ella. Dragons have not existed here in Westeros for a century and a half. Most people probably think they are all dead, and might even prefer it that way. If we start asking questions about them, there's no telling how they would react."

Ella simply nodded in agreement, and the siblings continued gazing out at the sea.

* * *

 **King's Landing**

The first thing they noticed about the capital of the Seven Kingdoms was not the sights: it was the smell. A horrible smell that could be noticed miles away, and that not even Nazir, used to all sorts of bad smells, could stand.

The city slowly came into view, as the ship continued to sail through the bay. Draco, Ella and Nazir stood on the deck, and took in the sight of the large, yet young, city: their attention was drawn to the immense castle that towered the city from the height of the large hill next to the water, its walls gleaming red underneath the sun.

"Well, looks like that's where we should head first," Nazir pointed out.

"Aye, that definitely looks like where the king should be," Draco replied in agreement.

When the ship docked, Draco thanked his friend for bringing them to the city, and the small group started to make their way into King's Landing, trying to keep everything in sight.

The streets were thick with crowds of guards and citizens. Every once in a while, they saw banners of different kinds: black with a yellow crowned stag, red with a golden lion on its hind legs or a combination of both. Draco could only assume that one of them, probably the latter, had to be the sigil of the king.

What was slightly more worrying was the attention they were gathering. Some looked at them with curiosity, others with fear, and a few of the guards kept their hands on their swords, ready to draw them at any moment: obviously, their armors and weaponry, quite different from what seemed to be the norm here, were not looked upon as well as one would in Skyrim, where honor was held quite high and armed people were common in the streets.

Fortunately, no one sought to stop or attack them, and they soon managed to reach the flight of steps that led to the red castle. Before Draco could ask one of the guards where he could find the king and whether he could speak with him, he was interrupted by a voice coming from behind.

"You are foreigners to Westeros, I take it."

The three turned around, and saw two men. The first, the one who had spoken, stood no more than four feet tall, and had a slightly deformed body: a dwarf. However, the deep red armor with a lion's head etched on the breastplate, as well as the chain made of hands surrounding his neck, showed that he had to be an important man, and his eyes, mismatched as they were, demonstrated a sharp and intelligent mind. The second man, obviously the first's bodyguard, was slightly shorter than Draco, and wore what looked like boiled leather armor, and Draco could easily tell that this was a soldier, a dangerous man.

"We are. My name is Draco Vitellius, of Tamriel," he replied, slightly bowing.

The short man eyed Draco for a few moments before speaking again.

"Judging by your skin tone, I would say you are a native of Cyrodiil. Correct?"

Draco was surprised by this.

"You know of Tamriel?"

"I do. I have never been there personally, unfortunately, but I have read quite a few books on it." The short man gestured to Draco and his companions to follow him up to the castle. "May I ask what brings you to King's Landing?"

"My companions and I," Draco said, pointing at Ella and Nazir, "were hoping to speak to the king on an urgent matter."

"Regarding what?"

"The North."

"What about the North?"

"We have reasons to believe that Westeros is at risk of being invaded by a force of death."

The short stopped dead in his tracks.

"Are you referring to the White Walkers?"

 _Yes_ Draco wanted to say. However, he realized that it would not be a good idea to reveal Paarthurnax's existence. So for the sake of keeping that secret, he would feign ignorance for now.

"The White Walkers?"

"Beings of ice and snow. Legends say that once they descended upon the realm, in what was known as the Long Night. They killed anyone they met, and then raised the corpses as their wight servants. However, they were eventually defeated in the Battle for the Dawn and pushed back north. That was when the Wall was built, to kep them out," the short man said, pausing for a few moments. "That was more than eight thousand years ago, though. I doubt they still exist, if they even did in the first place."

 _Just like Paarthurnax said_ , Draco thought.

"Does this Wall exist, though?"

"Aye, it does."

"Then why was it built, if not to keep the White Walkers out?" Ella spoke up.

"Who knows," the short man replied, shrugging. "I can't say. But the Night's Watch is mainly focused on keeping the wildlings at the northern side, not that they always manage to do it."

"Wildlings?"

"The people that live north of the Wall, in their tribes. I think they call themselves Free Folk, because they do not acknowledge anyone's authority that is not theirs."

"Reminds me of the Forsworn," Ella whispered to Draco.

"Either way, I do not think the White Walkers to be a cause for concern at all," the short man continued. "Even if they do still exist, they would not be able to make it past the Wall."

"With all due respect, I would still like to speak with the king on this matter. Better that I find my travels here were a waste of time than for me to leave only to then discover I should have stayed."

The short man looked at Draco and smiled.

"Stubborn, I like that. I will take you to see my nephew."

Draco looked at the short man in surprise.

"The king is your nephew?"

"That he is, as much as I wish he was not. King Joffrey Baratheon."

"And you are?"

The short man held out his hand.

"Tyrion Lannister, acting Hand of the King," he said, holding out his hand, while the other gestured to the man standing next to him. "This is my bodyguard, Bronn."

Draco shook his hand.

"A pleasure to meet you, Lord Tyrion, Bronn. This is my sister Ella."

"I had guessed you were siblings, you look quite similar," Tyrion said with a smile. He turned to the man standing next to Draco and Ella. "And who might you be?" he asked, extending his hand again.

Nazir shook his hand as well.

"Nazir of Hammerfell."

"Well, Draco, Ella, Nazir, be welcome to King's Landing." Tyrion motioned for the group to follow. "Let's go see the king, and hope he is in a good mood."

"I noticeed that there is quite a commotion going on," Draco mentioned as they walked up the steps to the red castle. "Is something happening today?"

"Oh, yes, it is King Joffrey's name day, and he has called for a celebration. Though, it is not the type of celebration you would expect for such an occasion."

As they approached the castle – which Tyrion explained was called the Red Keep – the three could not help but to look at it in awe. It might not look like much from far away, but up close it was quite impressive.

However, as they walked in, they started to hear the sounds of screaming and cheering echoing from the outer walls of the castle. Following the source of the sound, they saw three men trying to push a half-dressed man into a cask of wine, while a young man dressed in clothes that could only be described as royal and wearing a crown shaped like a deer's antlers laughed at the defenseless man. Draco felt disgusted. This was the King? A boy King that enjoyed another man's suffering?

"You can't!" a young woman that sat next to the King shouted. The boy glared at her, and she shrunk in fear.

"What was that? Did you say I can't?"

"I... I only meant it would be bad luck to kill a man on your nameday, Your Grace."

The King scoffed. "What kind of peasant's superstition is that?"

"The girl is right, Your Grace," a tall man, dressed in black armor and half his face horribly scarred, interrupted. "What a man sows on his name day, he reaps all year."

"Very well, take him to the Black Cells. I'll have the fool killed tomorrow."

"He is... a fool. You are so clever to see it, Your Grace!" the woman spoke again. "He would make a better fool than a knight. He doesn't deserve the mercy of a quick death," she said. To Draco, it was obvious that she was simply trying to save the man's life.

The boy King pondered for a few seconds, and then smiled evilly. "Did you hear my lady, Ser Dontos? From this day forward, you will be my new fool!"

The man that had been about to be pushed into the cask stood and stumbled."Thank you, Your Gracee. And to you, my lady," he said, in appreciation.

Tyrion sighed at his nephew's cruelty, only held back by the spark of genius in the girl, then looked at the group."Please, wait here. I need to talk with my nephew before I introduce you."

He then walked up to the tent, with Bronn following, while the three of them walked out of the King's eyesight.

"I haven't met him yet, and I already want to run my sword through him," Draco said. Ella chuckled.

"Is it really necessary to speak with him about what we are doing here, though?" she asked. "I mean, Lord Tyrion said the White Walker have been gone for centuries."

"Dragons had been gone for centuries, and then they returned," Draco replied. "He might be right, but as I said, I'd rather be absolutely certain that nothing is wrong here before going to find those dragons. What if we leave, and then it turns out there was a grave danger north of the Wall?"

"You are right," Nazir said. "What's the plan, then?"

"First, we need to find out everything we can about the White Walkers and those wildlings Tyrion mentioned. After that, we will head north, and hopefully we'll be able to save the day."

"And the dragons?"

"I'll figure it out when we can do something about them."

A whistle was heard, and they turned to the sound. It was Bronn, who was gesturing for them to come to the tent. The three walked over and bowed before the King.

"I present you our guests from Tamriel," Tyrion said. Joffrey sneered.

"Your names?"

"Draco Vitellius of Cyrodill, Your Grace," Draco answered.

"Ella Vitellius."

"Nazir of Hammerfell."

"And what brings you here?" Joffrey asked, leaning forward.

"The White Walkers."

"You really expect me to believe you came all this way to investigate a fairy tale? If you are lying to me..."

"I have reasons to believe that they are returning, Your Grace," Draco replied, resisting the urge to Shout this little runt to pieces. He was not worthy of this throne, and the dragon in him was urging him to take him out.

"And what reasons are those?"

"A friend of mine," Draco replied after thinking for a second, without mentioning that said friend was a dragon. "A friend of mine told me he saw the White Walkers, as well as a huge band of wildlings, running away from the former."

Joffrey scoffed. "If this friend of yours was at Castle Black, then he must have been a real trouble maker. Perhaps you are as well. Maybe I should kill you for that very reason."

 _I would love to see you try, you little shit,_ Draco thought. He would have said it aloud, but he knew it was not the best idea to threaten the idiot in charge.

"Your Grace," Tyrion spoke firmly. "They are guests here, and deserve to be treated with respect."

Joffrey frowned. "Fine. You may stay here until you find what information you came for."

"Thank you, Your Grace," Draco replied.

"You are all soldiers?" Joffrey asked, glancing at their weapons and armor.

"We have seen our fair share of fighting in our homeland," Ella answered. Joffrey's face twisted again into an evil sneer.

"Well, you look like you can handle yourselves. I want you to fight. It is my nameday, and I am in need of entertainment."

"Who are we fighting?"

Joffrey motioned to one of the guards in golden armor. "Ser Meryn, bring me the army's three best fighters of the army." He looked at the trio again. "You will all fight against another soldier in a fight to the death."

"Nephew!" Tyrion nearly shouted. "You cannot treat your guests like this!"

Joffrey stood up. "I will do as I please! They are in my land now and will obey me!"

Tyrion was about to speak again but Draco placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's alright, Lord Tyrion. We are more than capable of handling ourselves."

A few moments later, three soldiers wearing steel armor approached Joffrey and knelt. The boy King smirked. "My brave soldiers, I am placing each of you in a battle against these visitors from across the Sunset Sea. Do not fail me." He then looked at Draco. "You first. Take your pick."

 _Two can play this game, little runt,_ Draco thought, grinning. "I will take all three."

Tyrion looked at Draco in shock, but then looked at the man's companions, and noticed the smiles tugging at both Ella's and Nazir's lips: obviously, they knew well about Draco's abilities. Suddenly, he felt more about the three men that were about to fight the foreigner.

Joffrey, true to his fame, completely missed the signals as he smirked in contempt. "You heard him," he told his soldiers.

Draco handed Ella his bow and quiver before walking to an empty space in front of the tent, where he unsheathed Dragonbane. The three soldiers, meanwhile, walked in a single file and stood in front of Draco. One of them drew a greatsword from his back, while the other two readied their longswords. Almost simultaneously, the three soldiers charged at Draco, who fearlessly faced them.

The first to reach him was the one with the greatsword, but Draco managed to block the attack rather easily, using his great strength to push the man back while cutting his cheek in a rapid movement. The second soldier swung at Draco with his longsword, but the Dragonborn easily ducked and caught him with a slash to his side, causing the soldier to stumble in pain. Finally, the third soldier reached him and swung vertically. Draco parried the soldier's blade with his own and used his free hand to whack the soldier's helmet, sending it flying off and allowing him to hit the soldier with the butt of his blade, forcing him to the ground.

That was when the first soldier attacked, recovered from the initial shock. His slash was easily caught with Dragonbane, and Draco was able to knock the sword out before running him through. The soldier died instantly.

Meanwhile, the soldier he had slashed before had managed to recover and charged toward Draco. The Dragonborn sidestepped and slashed the soldier's ligaments with Dragonbane, forcing him to his knees in excruciating pain. This allowed Draco to bring his sword to the soldier's throat and rake it, killing him before the man knew what had happened.

The last soldier looked at the two slain men, and then at Draco with fear, which he hoped would mean he would give up. Instead, the soldier roared and charged at Draco, swinging at his head with as much force as he could muster. Draco just ducked and stepped aside, running Dragonbane through the soldier's side. As the soldier shouted in pain, Draco swung, and the man's head flew off his shoulders.

The crowd erupted into cheers. There was not a single person in the crowd that was not impressed with Draco's skill. Even Sandor Clegane, known as 'the Hound' and probably one of the best fighters in all of Westeros, looked impressed. What was more impressive was, perhaps, that Draco did not seem to have had trouble with his fighting at all.

Draco glanced at the three slain men, pitying the fact that he had had to take three lives on the whim of a boy king, and bowed to that boy king, who was currently seething from the fact that all three of his men had been defeated so easily: surprisingly, he managed to hide it, at least in part.

"Simply amazing!" he said. "You are truly a gifted fighter."

"Thank you, Your Grace," Draco replied, and left to rejoin his sister and partner.

"I have to say, Lady Ella, that your brother is an excellent fighter," Tyrion said, joining them.

"He's the best in all of Tamriel," she replied, smiling.

"After what I just saw, I can certainly believe that," Tyrion replied. _He might be even better than Jaime_. "You have certainly seen your fair share of fighting, Draco Vitellius."

Draco chuckled, retrieving his bow and arrows from his sister. "I have fought all kinds of battles, Lord Tyrion."

"You will have to tell me about them sometime. But, onto other matters. If you wish to learn more about the Wall, the wildlings, the North and whatever else you came here for, please, follow me."

Tyrion led the three of them to a small room where four people sat around a table: a skinny man with graying black hair, a moustache and a goatee; a bald, fat man that wore a yellow robe; an old man with a long white beard wearing a dark grey robe and a chain made of multiple metals around his teck, and a beatiful woman with long, blonde hair wearing a royal red robe.

Tyrion walked up to the woman and kissed her in the cheek.

"Hello, sister dearest," he said, and Draco raised an eyebrow. The tone Tyrion had used was more mocking than the kind one expected between siblings. By the glare the woman sent towards him, it was obvious that there was little love lost between them.

"What are you doing here, you..." she struggled not to speak further, as she looked up to them. "Who in the Seven Hells are these people?"

"These are visitors from Tamriel. Lord Vitellius, Lady Vitellius, Lord Nazir, I present to you my sister, the Queen Regent, Cersei Lannister."

"What is your business here?" she asked as she approached Draco.

"We are here to learn more about White Walkers and the wildlings."

"How do I know you are not a Dornish spy, sent by the Martells to find any weaknesses in here? Or to kill my son, the King."

It looked like this kind of idiocy was endemic in the family: Draco had pretty much lost all patience with the boy, and now he would have to deal with an adult female version.

"If I were a spy, Your Grace, I would have left this city well before you even knew I was here. And, had I wanted to kill your son, I would have already done so, just as easily as I killed the three soldiers he decided to pit on me as entertainment. But I have no wish to cause trouble."

"Quite a display, that fight was," Tyrion added.

"How dare you threaten my son!" the Queen nearly yelled.

"He did not mean it as a threat, sister," Tyrion said before she could lay further false accusations at the newcomers' feet. He should have known better than let her hear anything her warped mind might translate into a threat. "Lord Vitellius was only pointing out that he was not planning to cause any trouble here."

"What in the Seven Hells were you thinking, allowing strangers into the city? Especially to the Small Council chambers?" she asked, glaring at Tyrion.

"Strangers visit our city all the time. In fact, if it were not for those strangers, no food would be arriving to our city. And, well, I figured they would easily find what they needed to know from the Small Council. So why are you worried?"

"You bring these foreigners in here, the place from where we rule the Seven Kingdoms, this man threatens my son," she pointed at Draco, "and you think I have no cause to be worried?"

 _Whichever the reason she became Queen, I'd bet it was not for her brains,_ Ella thought, restraining herself from shooting an arrow into the woman's eye.

"If the White Walkers do return, you are going to be glad we were here," she said, instead.

"How dare you speak to your Queen that way?" Cersei asked, glaring at Ella.

"You are not our Queen. After all, we are strangers here."

"You are in my city. As long as you are here, you will abide by my rules and that of my son."

"You mean, the king who gets pleasure from drowning his own people in wine? The one who forces newcomers to fight to death just because he is bored?" Ella snorted, glaring back at Cersei. "No way. Perhaps you should keep a closer eye on him.

It took every ounce of Draco's willpower to keep from bursting out laughing at his sister's outburst. Cersei and Ella stared at each other for a few moments before Cersei turned toward Tyrion. "Escort our guests someplace comfortable. They may stay for a few days."

* * *

"I'm proud of you standing up to her," Draco complimented Ella as they and Nazir followed behind Tyrion and a couple of guards.

"I really, really wanted to shoot an arrow into her," Ella whispered. "Hopefully, we can find out what we came for and get the hell out of this city."

It only took a few minutes of walking before they arrived to an inn, where Tyrion led them into. After consulting with the innkeeper, he led the three of them to a decent sized room, with three beds and a small table.

"Here we are," Tyrion said.

"Thank you for your help, Lord Tyrion," Draco said.

"It is no problem. I hope to see you all at the Red Keep again tomorrow. I rather enjoyed your company," Tyrion said, leaving with the guards on his heels.

"I like him. He has been very welcoming," Ella said as she closed the door. "The only person here in this city that has been, in fact."

"The only person in this city I feel we can trust," Draco replied, "but I am unsure of how much help he, or anyone else for that matter, can be if they don't believe in the White Walkers. Not even Tyrion was convinced about their return."

"Look at it from their point of view, Draco," Nazir spoke up. "As far as they know, they have been gone for millenia, and no proof of their existence remains, at least south of the Wall. I know I would be reluctant to believe the word of a few strangers claiming that creatures from legends are returning."

Draco agreed with his partner. He had not expected the Westerosi to believe him immediately, but perhaps he could have used with someone that considered the possibility. He would have to work if he wanted to convince them about it. "I understand as well. We'll have to begin with that tomorrow."

"I will do some poking around the city, see if I can find some useful information," Nazir told them.

"Good idea," Ella said. "Take care out there."

"It is the city that should take care, with me outside," Nazir chuckled as he walked over to a nearby window. After making sure there were no prying eyes, he silently jumped out.

"We'd better get some rest, sister," Draco said. "We have a lot of work in front of us."

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks again to Milarqui for beta reading for me, and correcting a couple mistakes I made regarding the geography of Westeros

I gave a little bit about Draco's past to explain his anger, and I will get into more of it later on in the story. I am planning having a chapter down the line that focuses solely on his past

I hope you enjoyed it, and I will see you next time!


	3. Friendships, Alliances, and Knowledge

**King's Landing**

The following morning, Nazir returned from his scouting around the city, and he had found not a few things in the meantime. For example, he had found several dragon skulls lying underneath the Red Keep, many of them massive enough to chew through a giant in one bite, and then there was also the fact that a caravan had recently left the city for the Wall, so he would ride to catch up with them, and probably learn more about their task.

At midday, Draco and Ella managed to make their way through the crowds, bustling in the streets of the capital of the Seven Kingdoms. Lord Tyrion Lannister had invited them to attend a meeting of the Small Council, as he thought it would be helpful for them to hear what they expected to learn about. As they moved, Draco kept expecting to see Mer, Argonians or Khajiits somewhere in the crowd, and had to remind himself that they were not in Tamriel anymore: this was Westeros.

"These have got to be the biggest crowds I have ever had to deal with," he told his sister.

"Tell me about it. I keep expecting an Orc to show up," Ella replied, going around a couple holding hands and probably edging to reach a secluded place.

"Me too. But then I remember that the closest of them is thousands of miles across the sea, to the west."

Ella chuckled, and soon after they managed to reach the Red Keep, where Tyrion Lannister was already waiting for them.

"Lord Vitellius, Lady Ella," Tyrion said, nodding at them.

"Lord Tyrion," Draco replied, shaking the dwarf's hand. "I appreciate your assistance with our task."

"It's my pleasure. I figured today's Small Council's meeting would yield some helpful information for you. Please, follow me."

The three crossed the huge dark brown doors, behind which was a huge, cavernous room. A towering vaulted ceiling, held in place by massive arches and columns supported by large pillars made of white marble stood over them. Between each pillar were large, burning metallic braziers that illuminated the room. A gallery on the right side of the hall led to other areas of the Red Keep, and to the left were several windows with stained glass that depicted a seven-pointed star, which allowed the sunlight to shine through. It was as Tyrion took them through another door that they were shocked by the sight.

This second room had, on the back of the room, an enormous throne obviously made of a mass of rusted blades, fused together, with a set of steps made of a black stone leading to it and a stained glass window behind it that depicted a black and red seven-pointed star, which Draco guessed was important to the people of Westeros, probably a religious symbol. The siblings could not help but admire what they were seeing.

"The Iron Throne," Tyrion supplied, clearly proud of the sight. "Quite impressive, isn't it?"

"Very impressive, indeed." Draco nodded. "Who made it?"

"It was forged by Westeros' first king, Aegon the First Targaryen, also known as Aegon the Conqueror, after he unified most of Westeros under his banner. Those lords who offered their fealty gave each a sword to Aegon, counting almost a thousand, and he had them fused together in that shape with the breath of his own dragon, Balerion the Black Dread."

Draco's mind raced with questions. Was this Aegon also a Dragonborn? Could the Targaryens have the same abilities as him? Could the skull underneath the Red Keep that Nazir mentioned have belonged to Balerion?

"A dragon, you say? I always assumed they were a myth," he replied, even though he knew it was a lie: after all, a couple of years before he had spent weeks fighting and killing dragons on almost a daily basis, and he also was on speaking terms with the two that led those who were still alive.

"I am sure Maester Pycelle has enough books about the history of the Seven Kingdoms, which would probably have information on the Targaryen dragons. I could let you borrow some of them, if you wish."

"That would be fantastic."

"Very well. I'll speak with Pycelle after the meeting ends. And, speaking of which, we should probably get moving. My sister has never been a patient person, and I doubt that she will begin now."

The three headed to the room where he had taken them the previous day, and met again the Queen and the three men from the previous day. Now that he had a little more time, Draco watched them far more carefully: the old man was obviously faking whatever problems he tried to demonstrate; the fat man held many secrets behind his round face and intelligent eyes; and the third, the one with the goatee and the mocking smile, he could tell that there was something far more dangerous than what one would think at first sight. He resolved to watch for anything he did in his sight.

"Please, take a seat," Tyrion said, sitting on one of the chairs. Not wanting to deal with any of the other men, Draco chose to take one of the chairs near Lord Tyrion, opposite to the goateed man, and Ella picked the one next to her brother.

"Let us begin, then, since the King is not coming, and the Queen probably will not join us, either," Tyrion said. "Now, Grand Maester, you mentioned there was news from the North?"

"Yes, there is." The old man pulled out a scroll from one of the pockets in his grey robe. I have a message from Castle Black. Lord Commander Jeor Mormont is requesting aid."

"Thank you," Tyrion replied, grabbing the scroll and reading its contents. The surprise in his face was obvious, as he handed it to Draco. "It seems you were right, Lord Vitellus. Something is happening in the North."

Draco placed the scroll so that his sister could see it, too, and both began to read. The tale it told was quite disturbing: it detailed the Lord Commander's (who he guessed was the leader of the Night's Watch) account of how two of his rangers, who had gone missing weeks earlier, had been found deceased, and their corpses returned to Castle Black. Later that night, the corpses had arisen and attacked him and his men, and no weapon could put them down. The only thing that could end them was fire, burning the corpse. The most troubling part, though, was the final passage: _The cold winds are rising, and the dead rise with them_

"Are wights some kind of Draugr?" Ella asked.

"I don't know. Whatever they are, they seem to be much more resilient than our land's Draugr"

"What are 'Draugr'?" Tyrion asked, interested in the matter.

"Decayed corpses of ancient Nords, brought back to life by dark magic," Draco answered. "The main difference is that they are much more fragile than wights, so they can be killed through any means. Bow, sword, dagger... I have even seen one fall to a barrage of punches."

"What, exactly, are Nords?" the bald man asked.

"You see, there are nine provinces in Tamriel, the land we come from. The Nords are the natives from the northernmost of its provinces, Skyrim."

"Where do you hail from?" the goateed man asked.

"We are Imperials, native to Cyrodill, the capital of the Empire," Elia replied, just as the doors opened.

"In any event, I have found what I came for," Draco said, standing up. "I will be heading north as soon as I can, because there is no doubt that the Wall will soon suffer more attacks to follow this one.

"No," Cersei rapidly spoke up. "The two of you will be staying in King's Landing until such a time that I am convinced you are not a spy. Until I say otherwise, you are to remain in the city."

Draco scoffed. "You have got to be kidding me."

"No, I am not. You arrive as the Starks rebel, you claim to be from across the Sunset Sea, you claim you intend to save the realm... it is too much of a coincidence. Perhaps you are not a Dornish spy, but a Stark spy," the Queen replied, glaring at Draco.

Draco was not the least bit intimidated by her glare: once you stood up to a Legendary Dragon, the First Dragonborn and the Lord of the Vampires, a mortal woman who, frankly, was clearly an idiot, barely registered in terms of glares.

"First of all, as I said yesterday, I am not a spy. If I were, you would have not even known I existed at all. Secondly, I have fought in a war before, and I have seen what it does, so I have no more desire to fight again. And, in last place," he growled, leaning over the table, "if you think you can actually force me to remain in the city, or even intimidate me, you are sorely mistaken."

Silence swept across the room. Tyrion observed with glee how his sister's face became as white as chalk: that much had she been unnerved by Draco's intimidation, but she was not about to let it be shown how much. She looked at Draco with hatred in her eyes as she stood up.

"I am your Queen, and you will speak to me with more respect!"

"Respect is earned, not given just because of who you are," Draco retorted. "So far, you have done nothing but treat us with open hostility and accuse us several times of being spies or having some other motive for our being here save for the one we openly stated. Respect is a two-way street, _Your Grace_ , and so far you have provided no reason why we should do so."

"What do you intend to do about the attacks Lord Commander reports about, then?" Tyrion asked Cersei, changing the subject before the argument got too heated – although he had to respect Draco for being able to show that he was not someone to be pushed around. "He requests for more men to be sent to the Wall."

"We are fighting a war, in case he has forgot," Cersei answered, setting her fury-filled eyes on her youngest brother. "We do not have the men to spare."

" _The cold winds are rising, and the dead rise with them,_ Ella quoted. "You are planning to ignore that?"

"The Northmen... are superstitious people," Pycelle commented.

"Whatever the Northmen's beliefs, Lord Mormont is not a liar, and would not state this if he were not completely sure," Tyrion replied.

"Have you ever been to the Wall, Lord Tyrion?" Draco asked.

"I have, Lord Vitellius, and I know Mormont to be a trustworthy man. We should follow his request and send more men to the Wall."

Cersei chuckled. "One trip to the Wall, and you come back believing in grumpkins and snarks?"

"I don't know what to believe, but here is a fact for you: the Night's Watch is the only thing that separates the Seven Kingdoms from whatever lies beyond the Wall."

"And I have every confidence that the brave men of the Watch will protect us all," Cersei replied, and Draco observed, disappointed, how the other men nodded to her words, obviously not taking such a warning seriously.

"If there are no matters to discuss, then this meeting is over." She started to walk out of the room, but stopped when she was almost at the door, turning around and looking at Draco. "And I am serious about what I said earlier. You are to remain in the city until I say otherwise," she said, and finally she left the room.

 _And I was even more serious about what I said as well, you idiot Queen: you cannot keep me here, and I could level this entire city if I wanted to. But I'll play along for now_ , Draco thought. _Besides, I still have to find more information about dragons._

* * *

 **The Kingsroad**

It only took Nazir a day to catch up with the caravan headed for the Wall. All thanks to Shadowmere, the horse Draco usually rode, and which he had allowed his partner to use. Shadowmere, a legend among all members of the Dark Brotherhood, truly was a magnificent horse.

It had only taken a demonstration of his ability to stealthily move around and his skills with his scimitars for Yoren, the Night's Watch man in charge of leading the caravan north, to decide that Nazir could join them in their travel, even if Nazir did not plan to join the Watch, like everyone else.

Nazir had soon established that most of the people in the caravan seemed to be afraid of Shadowmere.

Except for one. A young 'boy' with short, uneven dark brown hair, wearing a light brown tunic, that was now walking alongside Nazir, at the end of the caravan, looking at Shadowmere with interest, rather than fear.

"What's your name, girl?" he asked, keeping his voice low enough to make sure no one else in the caravan could hear him. The girl reeled back, obviously shocked.

"I'm not a girl!" she muttered.

"Of course you are," Nazir answered, still in a low voice. If the girl was trying to pass herself off as a boy, then there was a good reason, and if none of the men in this caravan had noticed before, then it would be better for her.

"I am not!"

"I am not easily fooled, girl. It is a clever disguise, I'll give you that, one that would deceive anyone that was not looking, but I can see right through it."

The girl's shoulders sunk in defeat.

"How do you know?"

"Trade secret," he replied. Being a Dark Brotherhood assassin, Nazir was well acquainted with the art of the disguise, not only his, but that of other people, whom he had seen disguised in everything under the sun, from a beggar to a merchant. There was one time when Draco and him were fulfilling a contract: three bandits, dressed as Imperial soldiers, had demanded they pay a toll to pass through a certain road. Needless to say, the ones that ended up paying were the bandits, and in blood. As he noticed the girl's slightly fearful expression, he decided to mollify her. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. Now, what's your name?"

"Arya," she responded. "Arya Stark. I'm Arry now, though."

"Arya Stark... a beautiful name." Nazir noticed Arya was still staring at Shadowmere, and thought the girl would probably want a safer matter to talk about. "Do you like him? His name is Shadowmere."

"I've never seen a horse like this one before. Why are his eyes red? Is he ill?"

"No, he's always been that way."

"Why?"

Nazir pondered for a moment, trying to come up with an answer that would not raise any untoward suspicions. Given the superstitions related to the wights in the North, saying Shadowmere was undead would create suspicion, and possibly panic. The best answer he could use was a bit simple, but plausible.

"Let's say he is a magical horse," he replied, smiling. Arya snorted.

"Liar. There's no such thing as magic. Since the dragons died."

"Maybe not here in Westeros, but where I come from magic is as common as a knight wielding a sword. Probably more common, since it requires little training to learn how to use magic."

"Where are you from?"

"Somewhere very far away from here?"

"Qarth?"

"Nope," he replied, shaking his head.

"Dragonstone?"

"No again."

"Where else could magic take place?"

"Alright, I will tell you, but only if you promise to keep it to yourself, and tell no one."

"I promise."

"I come from Tamriel?"

Arya's eyes widened. Nazir took that as a sign that there was much more to this girl than what it seemed. Then again, not many had a surname here in Westeros, and they were mostly from the nobility and the merchants. He wished to know more about this place, maybe that could have helped him to learn where the girl was from.

"Tamriel!"

"Ssh, quiet," Nazir replied, glancing at Yoren.

"Why? What are you afraid of?"

"When I spoke to Yoren, I told him I came from King's Landing. I guess that it is technically true, given that I rode here from the capital, but I have only been in Westeros for barely a couple of days."

"Why did you lie, then?"

"I am here to learn more about a threat that looms over Westeros, the White Walkers. My friends and I wish to find out as much as possible about them and their weakness, so that they can be defeated. In my case, not giving up where I come from will help." Nazir noted Arya's eyebrow rise at the mention of the White Walkers, and decided to ask her what she knew at a later point.

"Friends?"

"My best friends. Two siblings, Draco and Ella. Draco was actually the one that led us here, and, well, even if this is not our land, we wish to help your people."

"Why are they not here with you?"

"They have other matters to attend to. Plus, I think they are better suited for dealing in the city while I do this part."

"HALT!" Yoren's voice boomed from the front. "We shall set up camp here."

* * *

 **Later that day**

Night had already fallen over the small camp. Everyone had supped, including the three men in the jail, the most polite of which made Nazir wary: there was something about him that exclaimed 'dangerous man'. And now, they were all starting to settle down for a night's sleep, knowing that the next day would be just as tough. Nazir, in the meantime, made his rounds through the camp as part of the watch duty he had volunteered for.

As he did, his thoughts turned to young Arya. Call it an assassin's instinct, but he could see great potential in the young girl, the makings of a fine assassin. Perhaps he could teach her a few things that would help her defend herself.

His musings were cut short when he began to hear the beating of horse hooves. Looking to the south, he saw two men, wearing the gold armor of King's Landing's city watch, riding their horses at full speed toward them. He quickly walked to Yoren's tent and opened it.

"Yoren, there are two Gold Cloaks approaching."

Immediately, Yoren rose from his bedding and got out of the tent, calling for everyone to wake up, while Nazir crossed the road and hid between some bushes. If the Gold Cloaks tried anything, he would easily get the drop on them.

The two Gold Cloaks stopped their horses in front of Yoren and dismounted.

"You in command here?" one of them asked.

"You're a long way from home," Yoren said.

"I asked you a question."

"Aye, you did. But you asked rather rudely, so I chose not to answer." Yoren stared intently at the soldier.

"I have a royal warrant for the boy called Gendry, one who wears a bull head's helmet," the same Gold Cloak said, pulling out a scroll and handing it to Yoren. "Whoever turns him over will earn the king's reward."

"Oh, a nice letter from the Queen," Yoren said, after folding the warrant again. "But, well, you see, the thing is... all of these gutter rats belong to the Night's Watch now. That puts them beyond the reach of Kings and Queens."

"Enough of this!" The Gold Cloak went to unsheathe his sword, but Yoren was faster: in an instant, his dagger was out, and the tip pressed against the Gold Cloak's right thigh. The other tried to draw his sword as well, but he was stopped when he noticed another sword, pointed to his back.

"I wouldn't be so fast if I were you," Nazir said, his scimitar ready to skewer him if needed.

"It is a funny thing," Yoren stated, still pressing the dagger on the Gold Cloak's thigh. "People tend to worry so much about their throats, that they forget about what's down low. Now, I sharpened this blade this morning, before breakfast, and now I could shave a spider's arse if I wanted. Or, for example, I could nick this artery on your leg, nice and fast. And believe me, once it gets nicked, there's no one in all of Westeros that knows how to un-nick it."

Slowly, Yoren pulled out the Gold Cloak's sword from its sheathe, tossed it to the ground, where one of the recruits collected it, and nodded at Nazir, who similarly disarmed the other Gold Cloak.

"We'll just keep those. Good steel is always needed at the Wall." Yoren smirked as the recruits surrounded the Gold Cloaks, all of them with weapons of different quality. "Now, it seems that you have a choice: you can die here, at this crossroads, a long way from home, or you can go back to that city and tell your masters that you failed because you did not find what you were looking for."

Deciding that discretion was the better part of valour, the two men jumped to their horses and glared at Yoren.

"We'll be back with more men, and I'll be taking your head to the King, along with that bastard." The two finally turned around and rode back south. Once the threat vanished, Yoren and Nazir sheathed their weapons, and everyone relaxed.

"Looks like we'll have to take a different path, now. Don't think anyone will complain, though."

As the group slowly returned to camp, Nazir looked around for Arya, who did not seem to be anywhere in sight. It was only a few seconds later that he heard some movement in some bushes near those he had hid earlier, and he saw Arya walking next to an older, well-built boy, with black hair and blue eyes that could be seen even under the moonlight.

"You must be Gendry," Nazir said.

* * *

 **King's Landing**

"Any idea why Lord Tyrion wishes to see me?" Draco asked Bronn as the two walked through the Red Keep.

"Don't know, but he said it was important."

The two of them continued to walk in silence, before Draco chose to break it.

"So, Ser Bronn..."

"I'm not a Ser," Bronn replied, laughing. "Just a simple sellsword."

"Ah, a mercenary." Even though he was unfamiliar with the term, it was simple to understand. "I have met quite a few of those in my travels. Actually worked as one myself for a time."

"Not anymore?"

Draco shook his head.

"I grew bored of it. Even with all the dangers that could happen in Tamriel, it was pretty much the same easy jobs over and over again. I realized it was far more enjoyable and challenging to adventure on my own terms, instead of doing other people's bidding. I actually earned more gold on my own, selling the weapons and armor of the men I slew than I ever did as a mercenary." Draco paused for a few seconds, trying to go back to his original question. "If I may ask, how did you come into Lord Tyrion's service?"

"Oh, that's easy. He got taken by Lady Stark to the Vale, thought she had something to do with her son getting injured, and there he was put under trial, he demanded trial by combat. He initially named his brother Jaime, the Kingslayer, as his champion, but Lysa Arryn, the Lady Regent of the Vale, demanded the trial to be held that day. So, I stood for Lord Tyrion, defeated Arryn's champion, and since then he hired my services permanently. And I have to say, that woman is batshit crazy, and I have seen quite a lot of crazy fuckers in my time."

"Tell me about it," Draco replied, and the two shared a laugh as they reached the tower where Tyrion was staying. After climbing a flight of stairs, Bronn opened a door to a dining room, where Tyrion was waiting for them.

"Bronn, Lord Vitellius, thank you for coming," Tyrion said, gesturing for them to have a seat.

"My pleasure," Draco replied as Tyrion poured wine into three goblets, one for each person in the room. "Why did you wish to meet with us?"

"I simply wish to know you, that's all."

"Very well, what do you want to know?"

"Earlier, during the Small Council meeting, you mentioned that you fought in a war. I am curious to hear about it."

"Aye, I did. Nasty thing." Draco shook his head as memories started to surge. "A couple of years ago, a man called Ulfric Stormcloak led a rebellion against the Empire. A civil war that lasted too long, and took too many lives."

"Interesting name. Why did this Ulfric start his rebellion?"

"It's a bit of a long story. About two centuries ago, all of Tamriel was united in one Empire, under the Septim bloodline. However, assassins murdered the entire Imperial Family, the Emperor included, and while the Emperor's last surviving bastard son managed to put an end to the crisis with the help of the Hero of Kvatch, the Empire started to break down. The Thalmor, a bunch of traitorous pointy-eared bastards, became independent, and thirty four years ago they invaded the rest of Tamriel. While the Imperial Legions managed to push them back, the Emperor signed a treaty that forced him to accept many of the Thalmor demands, among them banning the worship of Talos, one of our gods.

"Ulfric fought in that war, and was captured and tortured by the Thalmor. So, for him, when he returned and saw that Talos, who was seen as a hero by the people of Skyrim, could not be worshipped anymore... he changed. He saw what the Empire did as a betrayal of Skyrim, said that the Thalmor had too much influence over the Empire, and he thought the Empire was crumbling, so eventually, four years ago, he started the rebellion, killing the High King of Skyrim, Torygg. I fought for the Empire, and eventually we defeated the rebellion when we stormed the last city held by the Stormcloaks. I personally fought him in a fair duel, for I respected him for fighting for something he believed in and felt he deserved a better death than a simple execution. In the end, I convinced General Tullius, the man in charge of the Legions, to give him a proper Nord burial in Skyrim."

"Quite honorable," Tyrion commended.

Draco ended up telling Tyrion and Bronn about more of his adventures: his time in Solstheim, joining the Companions, the Dawnguard and the Thieves Guild. He only left out what he did for the Dark Brotherhood, and everything related to his status of Dragonborn and everything else that had to do with the dragons.

"So, these Daedric Princes you keep mentioning... are they gods of some sort?"

"Not exactly, not like the Aedra, but they do have almost god-like powers, and they are widely worshipped through Tamriel."

"I have never been a religious person, myself, but I won't question your beliefs," Tyrion replied. "In any event, I have an offer for you."

"What kind of offer?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I recently stripped the Commander of the City Watch of his rank and exiled him to the Wall, after which I named Bronn here as the new Commander. And I think you would make a suitable co-commander."

"What did the previous Commander do?"

"Janos Slynt was traitorous, cowardly, untrustworthy scum. He betrayed an innocent man, and as a result the man was unjustly beheaded. He also killed many innocent children, looked the other way when innocents were unjustly accused or let the guilty party go free. I simply could not allow that type of man to continue leading the City Watch. You couldn't even question his honor, because what was there to question?"

"Right cunt, he was," Bronn quipped.

"I understand. But, why offer me, a foreigner, such a position?"

"I consider myself good at reading people, and you seem like an honorable man. And yesterday, when you not only faced three of the best fighters in my nephew's army, but also defeated them almost effortlessly, you proved to be a fearless and very capable fighter. Plus, your experience from fighting would be a great benefit when it comes down to protecting the people and the city."

"You are far more trusting than your sister," Draco replied, taking another sip of wine.

"Like I said, I can read people. You have made it clear that, unlike Slynt, you are not one to be pushed around, and that you actually have a moral compass."

"Very well, then. I think I'll accept your offer, Lord Tyrion."

"Please, call me Tyrion. We are all friends here, aren't we?" he said with a smile and raised his glass. "To the new co-commander."

The three men shared their drink, and Draco set his goblet back down.

"So, Tyrion. These last days, I've heard a lot of people talking about the Starks, including your own sister. Who are they, exactly?"

"That's... a long story," Tyrion replied.

"I have the time," Draco said, taking another sip.

* * *

 **Elsewhere in the Red Keep**

Lord Tyrion had been kind enough to offer them both a new room in the Keep after Draco became the new co-commander of the Gold Cloaks, next to his sellsword Bronn. That was why Ella was now bringing her things to her room, after walking the distance from the inn to the Red Keep.

She had been wary at first, but when Draco told her of Tyrion's reasons for offering him the position, she was glad. However, that happiness had turned to anger after Draco related the events that had taken place in the last year: the sudden death of Lord Arryn, the travel to the North and the return, the growing hostilities between the Lannisters and the Starks, and the unlawful execution of the former Hand of the King, Lord Eddard Stark, which had started the current civil war. This made her abhor both Joffrey and Cersei even more than she previously did.

As she turned a corner and finally spotted the room, she heard crying from another room not far from hers. Listening to the girl's sobbing – a young teenage girl, it seemed – told her that there was no physical pain involved, but purely one of the emotions.

"Hello?" she said, knocking on the door. "Is eveerything good?"

The door opened, and on the other side stood the red-haired girl she had seen sitting next to Joffrey the other day: given what she had learned, this had to be Sansa Stark, the late Eddard Stark's eldest daughter.

"I... apologize for disturbing you, Lady Sansa, but I heard crying and I wanted to make sure everything was well in here."

Sansa gave a small smile, but Ella could see no mirth in it.

"I recognize you. You were at the King's name day tournament, with that man that fought against those three soldiers and won."

"Indeed." Ella nodded. "I am Ella Vitellius. That man is my brother Draco."

"He is quite good," Sansa remarked. She was no warrior, but it was obvious Draco possessed exceptional skill with a sword. She remembered how quickly and gracefully Draco had moved: more than an actual fight, it seemed to be just a simple warm-up for him.

"Are you alright? You look worried."

"I'm... I'm fine, Lady Ella."

"Are you sure you are fine? You look absolutely terrified." Sansa's facial expressions and tone betrayed her words.

"I am fine," Sansa said, more sternly.

"What are you so afraid of? You can talk to me." Ella knew all too well what it felt like to lose family: she could sympathize with Sansa, particularly if, as Tyrion had revealed, she had been present when her father died.

"I just... what if Joffrey finds out you were here?"

"I'm not afraid of him," she scoffed.

"You should. You don't know what he's capable of."

"Believe me, I've seen much worse things in Tamriel than one boy king. He doesn't scare me one bit."

"Please... just, just go. I don't want him finding out you were here!"

It was obvious that Sansa was too scared to open up even in the slightest, so Ella would have to accept that fact for now.

"Well, if you ever wish to talk, my room is just down the hall."

* * *

 **Later that night**

Draco was in his room, resting after a long day of learning about Westeros and King's Landing by reading the book Tyrion had allowed him to borrow from Maester Pycelle's library, even if the Maester was not fond of the idea: _The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms._

He had become interested in learning about the main noble houses of Westeros and the histories about the Kings, particularly Aegon Targaryen: after Tyrion's story, he had wondered if Aegon was the only one capable of riding dragons, or there were others, among them his descendants, that could too do that.

He stayed up almost the entire night, reading about the history of the Great Houses of Westeros, particularly the Targaryens: from Aegon I to Aerys II, via Maegor the Cruel, Baelor and Aegon the Unlikely. After he finally closed the book, he was astonished: up until a century ago, the Targaryen line had been able to ride dragons, and it seemed that the people from the land they came from, Valyria, was also full of dragon-rider families. All of this information only filled Draco's mind with more questions: were the Targaryens Dragonborn? Could they actually control dragons, like Draco was able to? Were they born with the soul of a dragon, like he was?

Finally, he set the book down on a nearby table. Too many questions, all of which could be found tomorrow, with a fresh mind. It would be best if he turned in for the night: he would share his findings with Ella tomorrow.

 _Draco suddenly awoke in a hot region: the sands and stones were dry, underneath the scorching sun that was now burning his skin. His attention was immediately drawn to a young woman, about twenty years of age, with platinum hair and violet eyes, building a funeral pyre for what had to be a recently lost loved one. She then placed three strange-looking stones on the pyre and lit it, setting it on fire along with an old woman who had been tied to one end of the pyre._

 _Then, to his surprise, the woman willingly walked into the flames as they consumed the funeral pyre._

 _By the time the fires died out, the night had passed, and the light of dawn began to wash over the sands... and Draco's breath was taken away, when he saw the woman had survived the fire, with only her clothes as victim to the fire, and now, wrapped around her naked body, were 3 small, newborn dragons. Hundreds of dark-skinned warriors immediately bowed before the woman as she walked out of the now dead pyre._

 _Before he could finish processing this incredible development, everything in the vision disappeared, and he heard the roar of a dragon as a large shadow flew overhead and landed in front of him. A dragon, a massive gold dragon, with a wise look in his eyes. This could only be one: the First Divine, the chief deity of the Nine Divines, the Dragon God of Time. He knelt._

 _"Akatosh..."_


	4. Swords In The Night

**Swords In The Night**

 _Questions were flowing through Draco's mind, as he drunk into the awe of the scene he had just witnessed._

 _"What is this? Who is that woman? And why did she set that other woman on fire?"_

 _Akatosh lowered his head._

 _"The young woman with the white hair you have seen is Daenerys Targaryen, the Stormborn, the Mother of Dragons, and the last remaining Targaryen in the world. The woman that burned alive in that pyre was Mirri Maz Dur, a witch who deceived Daenerys with the promise of healing Khal Drogo, her spouse, after he was wounded: instead, she betrayed her and left him in a vegetative state, not before taking Daenerys' unborn son's life in payment for Drogo's."_

 _"Is... is she a Dragonborn, like me?"_

 _"Nid," Akatosh replied, shaking his head. "Neither she nor any of the Targaryen line has ever had the soul of a dragon, like you do, and do not possess any of your abilities. She does, however, have the dragonblood in her, more than enough to get the dragons to obey her. With the proper guidance, she will be able to learn some of the Shouts you know. It will be up to you to guide her and her dragons in the language of the Dovah."_

 _"Will... will she go mad, like some in her family did?" Draco inquired. Some of the books he had read mentioned the Targaryen madness that had happened with several of their ancestors, probably a collateral caused by their inbreeding: disturbingly, it was said that, whenever a Targaryen was born, the gods would flip a coin to decide whether they would be brilliant of mad._

 _"She could be, but with the proper guidance, she will grow to become a much beloved ruler. Should you guide her down the right path, of course."_

 _"What about her dragons?"_

 _"The black one, Drogon, after her late spouse, will grow to be the biggest, and prove to be the most influenced by the inborn nature of a Dovah. The yellow one, Viserion, after her brother Viserys, and the emerald one, Rhaegal, after her brother Rhaegal, will be much calmer than Drogon, but both will still require training, before their inner nature takes control. I wish you much luck, Dovahkiin. You shall need it."_

 _With that, Akatosh vanished and Draco was immediately jolted from his sleep_

 **Near the God's Eye, the same night**

Yoren had counted himself lucky to find this small holdfast, although he was dismayed to see it completely empty of people, seeing that he wished to hire some boats. However, he decided they might as well take advantage of this and organized the recruits. Soon after a small supper, most of the recruits had fallen asleep. Save for Nazir and Arya, who were both contemplating what to do while Arya cleaned a short, narrow sword with a rag and Nazir observed her, his scimitars leaning against the wall.

"That's a very nice sword," Nazir told Arya. "May I see it?"

Arya nodded, handing it to him.

"Its name is Needle," she said, smiling.

"A fitting name. Who made it?" Nazir asked as he examined the blade. Very good quality, indeed, made for rapid stabbing.

"My brother Jon had it forged by our castle's smith, Mikken."

"I hope you know how to use it," Nazir replied as he handed the sword back to Arya.

"A little bit. My father hired Syrio Forel, the former First Sword of Braavos, to train me in what he called Water Dancing. But... he's dead now."

"How did he die?"

"He stayed behind to let me escape. He managed to knock out four men, but then he had to face Ser Meryn Trant, one of Joffrey's Kingsguard. I did not see it, but I think Trant killed him," Arya replied. Nazir could tell by the tone in her voice, that were she to get the chance, she would kill this Meryn Trant.

"You know, I could teach you some things I've learned over the years, if you wish," he offered. If he could not offer comfort, he might as well offer to do something he might like. Arya's eyes lit up.

"Thank you."

Not two seconds later, Yoren walked in through the door, holding a wineskin, and noticed both of them were still awake. "You should both be sleeping, you know. We all should." He sat down and leaned against the wall. "If we are lucky and the gods don't piss on us, we might make thirty miles tomorrow."

"I can't sleep," Arya said: it felt almost like she was too tired to rest. Yoren looked at her for a couple of seconds before he leaned forward and offered her the wineskin. "I don't like the taste." She refused.

"Well, you don't drink it for the flavor, to be honest," Yoren replied, chuckling, before offering it to Nazir.

"Sure, why not." Nazir took the offered wineskin and took a big gulp, before handing it back to Yoren.

"How do you sleep?" Arya asked Yoren as he closed his eyes.

"Same as most folk do, I would imagine."

"But... you have seen things. Terrible things."

"I've seen some pretty things, too, though not nearly as many. What about you, Nazir?"

"I've seen plenty of horrible things. I've done plenty of horrible things, too, in order to survive."

"How do you sleep when you have those…things in your head?" Arya asked

Yoren opened his eyes again and stared at Arya, intently. "You didn't see that. I made well damn sure of it."

"What is it you made sure she did not see?" Nazir inquired.

"Her father's execution."

"Every time I close my eyes, I see them standing up there. Joffrey, the Queen... my sister..." Arya replied, her eyes on the verge of tears. "I still hear that blond cunt calling for my father's head."

"We have something in common, you and I," Yoren said. "I was only a couple of years older than you when I lost my brother. A bastard called Willem stabbed him through the heart, without provocation, and escaped the town. Every night since then, I said Willem's name before falling asleep, and when Willem returned to town I took an axe and buried it so deep in his skull he had to be buried with it. That was why they sent me to the Watch. Well, that will help you to sleep," he finished, chuckling as he took another swig of wine.

Not a second later, the sound of a horn echoed through the air, followed by shouting. Arya dropped the rag, Nazir quickly grabbed his scimitars and Yoren unsheathed his sword, standing up in a moment.

"GET UP, YOU LAZY SONS OF WHORES! ARM YOURSELVES!" the recruiter yelled, furious that in spite of all his work, they had still been followed. As the other men in the group began to search for their weapons, he turned to Arya and Gendry, who had soon appeared to stand next to the young girl. "Both of you, keep out of sight. If things turn to hell, you run." The two tried to argue, but Yoren silenced them with a glare. "You run, you understand me? You run north and don't look back."

"Stay close," Nazir told Arya and Gendry, knowing that the two could probably use the protection.

"There are men outside who want to fuck your corpses!" Yoren told the rest of the recruits and charged outside, followed closely by everyone else.

When they went outside, several gold cloaks and soldiers dressed in red and black armor, who Nazir realized made them look quite similar to the Blades back in Skyrim, had all but surrounded the building. Arya and Gendry took advantage of the situation by hiding behind some bushes, while Nazir joined the others. One man, who Nazir guessed was the one in charge, rode forward.

"Where is the bastard, crow?"

"More than a few bastards here and there. Who's asking?"

"Ser Amory Lorch, sworn bannerman to Lord Tywin Lannister," Lorch answered, as if that was some sort of achievement. "Drop your weapons, in the name of the king!"

"And which king are we talking about?"

"Last chance, crow. In the name of King Joffrey, drop your weapons."

"I don't think I will," Yoren replied, spitting on the ground in front of Lorch.

"So be it." Lorch gestured to one of the other soldiers, who aimed a crossbow at Yoren and shot him in the leg. Yoren dropped to one knee, but immediately got back up.

"I always hated crossbows. You see, they take too long to load!" he shouted, jumping forward and cutting one soldier across the neck, starting the fight.

"Well, this will be interesting," Nazir said, readying his scimitars. While Yoren killed man after man, and the others stroke as best as they could, Nazir waited for the countercharge: two soldiers rushed at him, their swords ready, but Nazir easily parried their blows with one scimitar and cutting off one of their heads. The other soldier tried to swing again, but Nazir ducked and slashed the soldier diagonally, on both sides.

Unfortunately, the fight elsewhere was not going as well. Yoren's luck ran out as he was overwhelmed by numbers, and impaled by some spears before Lorch unsheathed his sword and drove it through the back of Yoren's neck, killing him almost instantly. And the others, if they were not running away, were surrendering or dying, lacking the training to deal with the more experienced soldiers.

Nazir walked over to the bushes where Arya and Gendry had been hiding, only to find that they had taken off, so he ran in the opposite direction of the battle, as it made quite a lot of sense that they would have gone that way. It was only a few minutes later before he found Arya on the ground, a bald soldier standing over her holding Needle. As Nazir bent down to stealthily make his way to the soldier, the soldier spoke.

"A fine little blade," he taunted Arya. "Maybe I'll pick my teeth with it."

"Maybe not," Nazir said, making his move and covering the soldier's mouth with his left hand while the scimitar in his right slashed the soldier's throat almost to the bone. "You alright, Arya?" he asked as she stood up and retrieved Needle.

"I'm fine. But I don't know where Gendry is. I lost him while we ran."

"Round up any survivors!" they heard Lorch command.

"Quick, in here," Nazir whispered, leading Arya into some nearby bushes and dragging the soldier's corpse with them. They were lucky, too, because within less than a minute a few soldiers appeared from behind the trees, roughly holding some of the Night's Watch recruits, one of them Gendry, as they kept searching for others. They looked at the bush, but in the dark they were unable to see Nazir and Arya, nor their fellow's corpse, and joined Lorch and the other soldiers.

"We'll take them to Harrenhal!" Lorch ordered. "Let's move out!"

Arya tried to run forward, but Nazir stopped her before she could put a foot out of the bush.

"Don't."

"We can't just leave them to the Lannisters," she said.

"We won't, but we must be smart about it. Charging at them like an angry boar is a good way to get yourself killed."

"Then, what we do?"

"We will wait until tomorrow, let them get a good lead ahead of us, and then follow the horse tracks. Those will lead us to them. Far easier to sneak around than taking on all of them at once."

Arya said nothing, but silently agreed with Nazir's plan.

 **The Red Keep, the next day**

Ella was in her chambers putting on her best leather armor: even though it was fairly common and not too costly, Ella preferred it because it protected her quite well, was light, and gave her much moving room, which for her, whose combat style favored rapid movement and the use of a bow with excellent proficiency, was a plus.

As she finished putting on her last bracer, she heard someone knocking on the door. Expecting it to be Draco or Lord Tyrion, she was surprised to see that the person on the other side was young Sansa Stark, the girl she had tried to talk with the previous day.

"Lady Sansa. Please, come in," she greeted. As the young girl entered the room, Ella led her to a chair, while she sat on her bed. "Are you well, my lady?"

"I'm fine, Lady Ella. Thank you for asking," Sansa replied, giving a small smile Ella could see was genuine. "I... I wanted to apologize for my behavior yesterday. You were trying to help me, even though you didn't know me, and I just pushed you away without thinking."

"There is nothing to apologize for, Lady Sansa," Ella replied. "You were afraid and worried, and I could easily see that."

Sansa reflected for a few moments, thinking back to what Ella said about worse things than one boy king, as she had put it.

"Yesterday, you mentioned your homeland, Tamriel, and how there are worse things than Joffrey there. What kinds of things are there that could be worse?"

"Simply put, Tamriel is a very dangerous place. My brother and me live in Skyrim, which is full of trolls, bandits, Forsworn, frostbite spiders, Draugr and about anything dangerous that you can think of."

"Why live there, if it's so dangerous? Why not move somewhere safer?"

"Because, in spite of the danger, it is a good place to live. The air is cool, most of the people living in cities and towns are friendly, and Skyrim... it is such a beautiful place."

"Aren't there talking cats and lizards there?"

Ella laughed. "Yes, there are. The Khajiit and the Argonians, from Elsweyr and Black Marsh. Though, it is good none of them are here, they dislike being called that. How come you know of them?"

"My family's Maester, Luwin, has some books about Tamriel in his library. It does sound like an interesting place."

"That's putting it mildly," Ella replied. "It seems as though you experience something new every day. Perhaps you can visit someday and see it for yourself?"

Sansa's eyes lit up. It did, indeed, sound like an interesting place to visit... but right now, she was still trapped in the city, and, as she thought about it for a moment, with that monster disguised under a lion's skin. She knew that, were Joffrey to hear about what she and Ella were talking about, he would no doubt interpret it as Sansa attempting to escape. And that would not be good.

"I... I should go before Joffrey finds out about this."

As Sansa prepared to leave, Ella stood up and gently grabbed her arm, stopping her.

"Lady Sansa, may I offer you some advice?" When Sansa nodded, Ella continued. "Do not let fear control you. If you show fear to the wrong people, they will use it against you: I have seen it plenty of times. Never allow yourself to be intimidated, and do not ever be afraid to stand up for yourself."

By the way Sansa looked at her, Ella knew she would heed her advice.

"I have something else for you." Ella walked over to the table where she had placed her weapons, and grabbed one of her ebony daggers, which she handed to Sansa. "Take it. You never know when you might need to defend yourself."

"But... don't you need it?" Sansa asked as she carefully twirled the blade in her hand.

"I have another. Besides, I usually prefer to use my bow. And, if you want, I can teach you how to use it."

"Thank you, Lady Ella." Sansa concealed the dagger in her sleeve and left the room.

 **Gold Cloaks' barracks, later that day**

Today was Draco's first day in charge of the gold cloaks. He and Bronn had decided that they would switch off daily in giving the orders, but would also make decisions jointly. Right now, he was in the courtyard, ensuring that the men learnt to better use their weapons, so he was sparring with some of them. Meanwhile, Tyrion and Bronn spoke, and Ella was practicing with her arrows.

"Stay balanced, or your opponent will knock you on your arse," Draco said as he pulled a gold cloak to his feet. The man nodded and walked over to the side, standing with the others.

"Your turn," Draco said, calling another random gold. "Charge at me."

The man lunged forward, his sword ready, but Draco saw it coming and easily sidestepped, parrying the sword with Dragonbane. The soldier then swung horizontally, but Draco quickly ducked and answered with his own blow, which his opponent blocked. The two continued to exchange blows in their sparring match until Draco decided to end it – he had been holding back, and he thought this could teach him another maneuver. When the gold cloak next swung downward, Draco sidestepped and caught the man's arm, wrenching the sword free from his grasp before pointing with Dragonbane at the man's stomach.

"You have done well. Keep working," Draco complimented him, handing him his sword back. However, before he could continue, they were interrupted by a young man with black hair, wearing red plated armor.

"Lord Tyrion!" the boy called out, clearly exhausted.

 _He must have been running in that_

"What is it, Podrick?" Tyrion turned, addressing his squire.

"It's... it's the king! He is having Ser Meryn beat Lady Sansa inside the Great Hall, in front of the entire court!" Podrick replied, in shock.

Immediately, Tyrion, Bronn, Draco and Ella made their way to the Red Keep's hall, where several people had gathered: inside, they found Joffrey standing on the steps of the throne, aiming a crossbow at Sansa, whose grey dress had been all but torn from her body as Ser Meryn Trant held his blade above Sansa.

"What is the meaning of this? What kind of knight beats a helpless girl!" Tyrion scolded Ser Meryn, clearly disgusted at the sight of Sansa being helplessly tortured by the monster in the throne and his lackey.

"The kind that serves his king, Imp!" the knight snapped, bringing his sword around.

"Careful, now. We don't want to spill blood all over your pretty white cloak, do we?" Bronn threatened with a sick smile.

"Someone get her something to cover herself with!" Tyrion commanded. One of the Kingsguard, the same man with the scarred face that was standing next to Joffrey during the nameday tournament, almost immediately wrapped a cloak around Sansa. Once that was done, Tyrion walked up the steps to face his sadistic, idiotic nephew.

"She is to be your queen! Have you no regard for her honor?"

"I'm punishing her!"

"For what crimes? She doesn't fight her brothers battles, you damned half-wit!"

"You can't speak to me like that, the king can do as he likes!" Joffrey retorted and sat back down in his throne. Tyrion felt like throttling the boy, but held through.

"The Mad King did as he liked as well. Did your uncle happen to tell you what happened to him?"

"No one threatens his grace in the presence of the Kingsguard," Ser Meryn said, stepping forward while unsheathing his sword. Ella quickly pulled her bow from her back and nocked an arrow, ready to shoot it straight into the man's skull. Draco waved her down, and she lowered the bow, but kept the arrow ready, just in case.

"I am not threatening the King, Ser. I am simply educating my nephew on the art of not being an idiot. For example: Bronn, Draco, Ella, if you would be kind enough, the next time Ser Meryn speaks, please kill him."

"With pleasure," Draco said, sickened with the knight and the king.

What happened next was surprising, to say the least. At least, surprising for those that did not know better. After an almost undetectable sign from Joffrey, the honorless knight stepped towards Sansa again.

Before anyone else could react, and without even thinking, Draco unsheathed his Blade of Woe and knocked the sword out of Ser Meryn's hand. That done, he restrained Trant's left arm behind his back, and with his right hand he kept the Blade of Woe pressed firmly against the knight's throat... hard enough that blood started to trickle down his neck. Ser Meryn tried to struggle to get free, but Draco pressed even harder and he stopped moving: in any case, Draco's strength far exceeded his own, and he would have not been able to escape.

"Any man who would beat a defenseless girl is nothing more than a sick craven," Draco hissed loud enough for almost the whole court to hear.

Tyrion looked at Draco in surprise, while Bronn looked on in amusement at the knight's humiliation. Ella would have loved to see her brother slice the knight's throat wide open, though she knew that it would not leave a very good impression. However, that did not stop her from hoping that the knight would speak again so Draco would have reason to kill him, as Tyrion had said no more than a few minutes ago. She looked at Joffrey, and it looked as if the boy was trying to burn holes through Draco's head with his eyes.

"Hold, Ser Meryn. The lady has learned her lesson," Joffrey finally said.

Draco could tell that Joffrey was afraid of something: probably of losing his loyal pet and personal thug. He could not help but smirk at the thought.

"You are lucky, seems the boy king doesn't want to lose his lapdog," he taunted as he sheathed his blade and shoved the knight forward. Looking down at Sansa, he extended his hand out to the girl. She looked at him for a few seconds before placing her hand in his, allowing him to help her up from the floor before he escorted the young girl out of the hall, followed by his companions.

 **Later that evening**

After escorting Sansa back to her chambers, Draco led Ella to his room to speak with her about the many important events that had taken place earlier in the day.

"Last night, I had a vision from Akatosh," Draco began, stunning his sister.

"About the dragons?" Ella asked, even though she knew the answer.

"Yes. I saw how the dragons came to reemerge." He then explained everything he had seen, from the moment the pyre started to burn to the three newborn dragons, which had returned to this part of the world after more than a century missing.

Ella was wide eyed and surprised. It certainly sounded almost unimaginable, and beyond the realm of possibility, but she knew Draco was telling the truth. It was not too often that one of the Nine showed themselves, whether it be in a dream or reality, which meant this had to be real.

"So it was because of this young woman that the dragons were born?"

"It was. Her name is Daenerys Targaryen, the last remaining member of the Targaryen line. Akatosh also told me that, although she doesn't have the soul of a dragon as I do, with training she would be able to learn some of the dragon Shouts."

"So are you leaving for Essos?"

"I had been planning to leave tonight to pay a visit to the Dawnguard: since they are vampire hunters, and, since vampires are also vulnerable to fire, the wights seem like they are right up the Dawnguard's alley. Then, I would travel to Essos to find the Targaryen girl. But, after seeing what that little milkdrinker is putting Lady Sansa through, I am not willing to leave her here to continue to be tortured to that brat's heart's content, without doing something about it."

"I do not plan to stand by and do nothing about it, either," Ella replied, angry. "She should be with her family, not held hostage here with the people that had her father murdered in cold blood. The question, though, is how we are going to get her out of here and back to her family without drawing too much attention to ourselves."

Draco pondered to himself. He could always summon Odahviing or Durnehviir or use his Thu'um as a show of force, but revealing who he was would make his mission much more difficult. He continued thinking until an idea came to mind, a grin slowly forming on his lips.


	5. Plans and Schemes

**A/N** **:** This chapter took me a while to get out due to a combination of writer's block, work, and school, but I finally got it out.

And before this chapter gets underway, I wanted to address a couple valid concerns some readers have voiced:

1\. A few of you have said that my story is similar to another story in the Elder Scrolls/Crossover section. I know it seems kind of similar, but rest assured that I have tons of things planned that will be different. My story is by no means a clone of the other story.

2\. A few of you have also voiced concerns that I am underpowering Draco aka the Dragonborn. I promise that I am not going to nerf him, but having him killing the king and managing to get Sansa back to the Starks within the first few chapters is a bit too fast paced for my taste.

Now, without further ado, here is the next chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

 **The Riverlands, near Harrenhal**

Revenge.

That was the only thing in Arya's mind ever since she had fled from King's Landing on the day of her father's execution. The names of all those that had hurt her or her family, those she wanted to kill, echoed in her mind.

 _Cersei. The Hound. Joffrey. Tywin Lannister. Meryn Trant. Ilyn Payne. Amory Lorch._

She had repeated the list over and over in her head. She wished for nothing but justice upon her enemies.

That was not the only thing on her mind, however, as she also wondered how her friends were. Were they dead? Were they imprisoned? Were they being tortured? She wished she knew the answer, but she did not. All she could do was hope that they were safe and that she and Nazir would be able to rescue them.

"Cersei. The Hound. Joffrey. Tywin Lannister. Meryn Trant. Ilyn Payne. Amory Lorch," Arya said her list in a whisper as she and Nazir walked along the same road the Lannisters had taken earlier.

"Who are those people?" Nazir inquired, having heard Arya's litany. He had easily recognized the boy king's and his mother's name, and remembered that Amory Lorch had been the one who led the attack on Yoren's caravan.

"The list of people I am going to kill."

"Why do you want to kill these people? I mean, I know why you would want to kill Lorch. I also would love to take my scimitars to that rotten skeever. And you also said that Trant killed your former sword trainer. What did the rest do?"

"They have all done bad things, to me, my friends and my family," Arya replied. "Cersei had my father arrested, Joffrey had him executed, Ilyn Payne personally executed him, the Hound killed my friend Mycah, Tywin Lannister started this war."

"Joffrey... Joffrey is nothing but a cruel boy. When my friends and I first got to King's Landing, the first thing we saw him doing was laughing as three of his personal guards tried to drown a defenseless man in wine."

 _There are no limits to his cruelty_ , Arya thought. She had despised Joffrey and his cunt of a mother from the moment they had arrived to Winterfell with the rest of the Royal Family, with their smug face and attitude. That feeling had only strengthened as time passed and all of Joffrey's actions. She especially remembered when Joffrey had started to hurt her friend Mycah, the butcher's boy, for no reason at all while she was practicing fighting with sticks with him, and then told lies about it and had his Hound brutally kill him.

"He doesn't deserve to be king," Arya remarked with hatred.

"Believe me, I know that," Nazir replied, but decided to change the subject before Arya's emotions got the best of her: one of the most important things about being an assassin was to have a clear head. "But, right now, we need to focus on getting your friends back. No telling how well guarded this place might be, or how difficult it will be to sneak in. But one way or another, we will free them… and take some revenge while we're at it."

* * *

 **King's Landing**

After some thinking, Draco had realized that, if he wanted to smuggle Sansa out of King's Landing and return her to her family, he was going to need some armed help. Much to his luck, a ship in the King's Landing port was bound for Skyrim, and he convinced its captain to carry several letters to Windhelm. Teldryn Sero, the Dunmer mercenary he had met in Raven Rock; Aela the Huntress, of the Companions; Serana Volkihar, the former vampire he had worked with to stop her father from blotting out the sun, and his housecarls from the nine holds he was Thane of, would all receive a letter requesting their support. It was true that he could have easily rid himself of the boy king and his mother, but the less attention he drew to himself, the better. Even if he already called quite a lot of attention with everything he had done for Lord Tyrion.

Another letter had been sent to the Dawnguard to ask for their help in the Wall, detailing everything he had learned from Paarthurnax, what he had found in King's Landing, and the letter Lord Commander Mormont had written in his request for aid.

Until the time for action came, though, there was little he could do. So right now, he was working on a grindstone, sharpening and tempering Dragonbane. Even if it was centuries old and had never lost its edge, Draco still took care of it, and now it looked as if it had just come out of the forge.

"Lord Vitellius," a familiar voice said, and Draco turned to see Tyrion and Bronn approaching him.

"Lord Tyrion, Bronn," he greeted, noticing that Tyrion had a slight hint of worry on his face, which he guessed was the reason Tyrion sought him. "What happened? You look quite uneasy."

"Perceptive," Tyrion replied, "and you are right: a troubling situation has just come up. I have a favor to ask of you, and it is no small request that I am about to ask either."

"What kind of favor?" Draco asked, taking Dragonbane off the grindstone and observing it before sheathing it again.

"First, tell me, what do you know of House Baratheon and Robert's Rebellion?"

"House Baratheon, descended from Orys Baratheon, ruled the Stormlands more or less since the arrival of the Targaryens. When Rhaegar Targaryen kidnapped Lyanna Stark, Robert Baratheon, Lyanna's betrothed, rose up in rebellion along with Ned Stark and Jon Arryn, and the alliance defeated the Targaryens, making the Baratheons the new royal family. Robert died a few months ago while hunting a boar. His brothers, Stannis and Renly, are lords of Dragonstone and Storm's End, respectively."

"Precisely," Tyrion said. "Unfortunately, after Robert's death, they both sought to claim the throne for themselves, and naturally, Stannis would have the better claim since he is the elder."

"With all due respect Lord Tyrion, what does this have to do with me?"

"I'm getting to that. A couple days ago, Renly was assassinated."

"How?"

Tyrion shrugged. "I am not entirely sure. Rumors being what they are, I cannot tell whether they are true or not, but it is said that he was killed by some sort of shadow creature, bearing Stannis' face. And, with Renly dead, the Stormlands bannermen have flocked to Stannis' side. I have no doubt that he will soon attack the capital, to try and take the Iron Throne."

"So, what would you ask of me?"

"I would ask that you would fight with us when he arrives. We could really use you on the front lines. I know that you don't wish to get involved in a war, but if Stannis is successful, he will no doubt kill me, my sister, my niece Myrcella, my nephew Tommen, and of course King Joffrey, and there is no telling how many smallfolk would be killed."

Draco raised an eyebrow, as he realized what he was saying. While Joffrey and Cersei really deserved to die, neither Tyrion nor his niece and nephew nor the commoners had done anything to deserve such.

Plus, if he played his cards right, the attack would be the perfect distraction to get Sansa out of the city and back with her family.

"Ever since I arrived at King's Landing, you have been nothing but friendly and helpful. While I don't give a skeever's arse what happens to Joffrey or your sister, the way I see it, fighting for you when Stannis comes is the least I could do to return the favor. You have my sword."

"Thank you," Tyrion replied, gratefully.

"But I want to make one thing clear," Draco said calmly yet sternly, holding a finger up. When Tyrion nodded, Draco continued. "If I do this, it does not mean I serve the Lannisters, nor does it mean I serve that pompous brat of a king. I am simply doing this as a favor for a friend, and to protect the innocents," and to smuggle Sansa out of the city. He extended his hand to Tyrion. "Deal?"

Tyrion smiled and shook his hand in acceptance. "Fair enough."

"I'll call in some capable fighters I know of," Draco said, even though he had already done so. "Do you have a plan to defend the city?"

"I do, actually… jars full of pig shit."

* * *

 **Harrenhal**

Gendry and the other recruits had been put under control of Ser Gregor Clegane, known as the Mountain, and another man that he had been able to ascertain was nicknamed the Tickler, both of which had started to torture the group in order to find out the location of some group called 'The Brotherhood without Banners'. They would grab a random recruit, demand questions from him, and when he could not answer anything, they were strapped to a chair, a bucket with a rat was put over the recruit's chest, and then another man would press a torch against the bucket, prompting the rat to dig through their flesh in order to escape, killing them.

He had only been spared the same destiny because of the unexpected arrival of Lord Tywin Lannister, head of House Lannister, who had immediately berated his men for being so stupid as to torture and kill the prisoners instead of putting them to work, something that was sorely needed in the almost ruined castle.

As he worked, several emotions flowed through his mind. The first was guilt over Lommy Greenhands' death: he had been executed by Ser Amory Lorch because the latter had confused him for Gendry, as Lommy had been carrying the bull helmet when they were found.

Another emotion was worry over what would become of himself and the other recruits. Would they just be executed when the Lannisters decided to leave Harrenhal? Would they be set free and cast out? Or would they be forced to accompany the Lannisters and continue to be put to work? He was also worried over Arya and Nazir: he had not seen them among the other prisoners, but he had not seen them since they got separated during the attack: either they had been killed by the Lannister men, or they had managed to get away from them.

And, finally, he was feeling anger over his friends' death. They had done nothing wrong beyond being in the wrong place at the wrong time, yet the despicable lions had slaughtered several of them anyway. Especially that scumbag Lorch, who had not only executed Lommy, but had also murdered Yoren, the Night's Watch man who had been looking out for them

"You, forge boy," a voice interrupted, snapping him out of his train of thought. Looking over his shoulder, he saw a Lannister soldier approaching him. "Come with me, Ser Amory wants to speak with you."

The soldier grabbed him by the shoulder and started to lead him toward a nearby building, but when they rounded a corner into a dark alley, Gendry was surprised when he saw Arya standing by, along with a dead Amory Lorch, whose throat had been slit. The soldier then took off his helmet, revealing himself to be Nazir, stunning him even more.

"I... I thought they killed you. How in the Seven Hells did you manage to avoid getting killed or captured?"

"After I killed the bald one that had cornered Arya, we hid in a bush. Fortunately, the Lannisters did not do a thorough search, and could not see us in the darkness," Nazir explained, smiling at Gendry.

"How are they treating you?" Arya asked: that question had been clinging on her head since they were attacked, and worry had eaten at her for long enough.

"They... they have been torturing us, especially the Mountain. They were asking us about some people they call 'the Brotherhood', until Lord Lannister arrived. Then we were put to work" Gendry answered.

"How many of you are there?" Nazir inquired, already running possible escape ideas.

"Not very many. A couple of the recruits were killed when they were tortured. Can... can you get us out of here?"

"Right now, I cannot see how to help you escape, at least not without being noticed. However, so far no one has realized that I am not a Lannister soldier. I will stay undercover and find out whatever I can about their plans, particularly their guard shifts. There's bound to be an opportunity that will present itself sometime soon."

* * *

 **Guildhall of the Alchemists**

Tyrion, Bronn and Draco stood inside the headquarters of the Alchemists' Guild, and Tyrion was now examining a jar of wildfire: after learning from Lancel about the Alchemists' activities, he had decided to pay a visit to Wisdom Hallyne, their leader, to ascertain the extent of their production, as well as secure all the caches of wildfire that still remained around the city, since his plans for the defense of the city against Stannis' invasion included their use.

"I remember reading an old sailor's proverb," Tyrion said, still holding the vial. "Piss on wildfire, and your cock burns off."

Draco and Bronn chortled, particularly after another alchemist muttered about never trying that experiment before.

"The head of the substance is so scorching that it can burn wood, stone, steel... and, obviously, it burns flesh," Hallyne replied, grabbing the jar from Tyrion and carefully placing it with a few other vials. "After the dragons died out, wildfire was the key to Targaryen power."

"My companion here takes issue with that claim," Tyrion stated, nodding at Bronn, who simply scoffed at Hallyne's claim. Obviously, he was not particularly convinced about the man's boast.

"D'you know how many crazy old men I've seen pushing carts around, making grand claims about jars full of pig shit?"

"Our Order does not deal in pig shit!" Hallyne snapped, clearly insulted. "The substance is fire given form, and we have been protecting it since the days of Maegor the First."

"To do... what, exactly?" Draco asked.

"The jars are put in catapults, and then they are flung at the enemy."

"How much do you have?" Tyrion inquired. Hallyne gestured for the three of them to follow him, and he began to lead them down to a cellar.

"If you can get real soldiers to man the catapults," Bronn began, as the alchemist opened a door that led to a downwards flight of stairs, "then maybe they will hit their targets one time in then. Unfortunately, all the real soldiers are currently in the Riverlands."

"This man is insulting" Hallyne said.

"He has a point," Draco argued, seeing the point the sellsword was making. "I don't know how much fighting you have experienced, but in battle, things tend to get very chaotic, very quickly. Men die, men run, men soil themselves... all sort of things happen. I've seen men accidentally kill their own comrades out of panic."

"Aye," Bronn continued, "which means pots falling, which means fire within the walls, which means the poor cunts trying to defend the city end up being the ones that burn it to the ground."

"As you can see, neither of my friends here is particularly convinced," Tyrion quipped.

"Neither of you would dare insult my Order whilst Aerys Targaryen lived," Hallyne retorted as he began to fiddle with a chained door.

"We are not insulting your Order, old man. We are simply pointing out that it is men that win wars, not magic tricks," Draco said. _Though, magic certainly helps,_ he thought.

Almost immediately after Draco spoke, Hallyne managed to unlock the door, which creaked as it opened, and he gestured for Tyrion to take a look. Tyrion was left completely dumbfounded at the sight: within the room were rows upon rows of shelves, all stocked with jars full of wildfire. There had to be hundreds, probably thousands, of jars in the room... and it was all under King's Landing.

"We have been working tirelessly, day and night, ever since your royal sister the Queen commanded us to do so. The process has become much faster as of late, which has allowed us to increase production. By our own accounts, we have 7,811 jars... enough to burn both Stannis' army and his entire fleet into nothing."

"This is a shit idea," Bronn argued, horrified.

"I am afraid I have to agree with my advisor, Wisdom Hallyne. The contents of this room could burn King's Landing into nothing but ashes..." Tyrion stated, turning to face the alchemist. "You will not be making wildfire for my sister any longer. From now on, you will be making it for me."

* * *

 **Courtyard**

Sansa made her way to the courtyard where Ella had cited her for her first lesson on using the dagger she had gifted her. She felt nervous about the possibility of hurting herself, or perhaps Ella, but her willingness to learn how to defend herself overwhelmed that fear.

At first, she had been hesitant about the idea of taking lessons, but then Ella had told her of how many times she had been in danger, and how she would have been killed if she had not known how to handle herself: given the current state of things, Sansa realized it was important she learn how to handle a blade.

When she entered the courtyard, she saw Ella, dressed in her leather armor, striking a dummy with her own dagger. It was obvious that Ella was experienced with its use: she was hitting the dummy so fast that the moves seemed to blur into each other. Ella stopped when she noticed her approaching and turned around to embrace her.

"Lady Sansa, how are you?"

"I'm fine, Lady Ella. Thank you for asking." Sansa smiled.

"Good. And, please, just call me Ella, there is no need for formalities. Are you ready to begin?" Ella asked as she skillfully whirled the dagger in her hand.

Sansa nodded and unsheathed the dagger in her belt. Ella's expert eyes noticed her fingers were slightly shaking, attributing it to her lack of experience in the use of any kind of weapon.

"First thing, do not be afraid of the dagger, as it is going to protect you," she said calmly. Sansa still felt nervous, but she also knew Ella was right, and managed to relax somewhat. "Now, I want you to strike at me. I want to see your form."

Sansa was surprised at the request. "Are you sure? What... what if I hurt you?"

"You won't."

"But, what if I do?" Sansa asked again, not wanting to hurt one of the very few friends she had in King's Landing. Ella could understand Sansa's hesitation, but at the same time she needed Sansa to understand that she was experienced enough that she would not hurt her.

"Lady Sansa, I have had to fight quite a few times in my life. Trained fighters and soldiers have tried to hit me, and I have always emerged from fights just fine," she said, hoping her choice of words would get through her. "I promise you, you won't hurt me."

Sansa was still hesitant, but complied. Trying to draw on what little she could remember seeing, she swung the dagger downwards, but Ella easily dodged the blow.

"Not the worst I've seen, but definitely needs a lot of improvement. I'm sure you will learn quite quickly how to use the dagger."

"Thank you," Sansa replied: her mood improved just from hearing that.

"Now, do it again," Ella said. Sansa hesitated again, but this time it was shorter, and now she swung sideways. Ella easily ducked and parried Sansa's dagger with her own, knocking it out of her hand. She then picked it up and handed it back.

"First off, you keep hesitating. If you find yourself in an actual fight, _never_ hesitate. Your opponent will always capitalize on that and strike you down before you can even breathe. And, secondly, _always_ keep a good grip on your weapon: without it, you are defenseless."

"Where did you learn all of this?" Sansa asked.

"Most of it, my brother taught me," Ella answered. "And, as I said, Skyrim is a very dangerous place. No matter where you go, there is someone or something trying to kill you or someone else, which took care of the rest of my education. Even browsing the markets in broad daylight carries a risk of someone trying to kill you."

"Does the rest of your family live there with you?" Sansa asked. Immediately, she regretted it, when she saw Ella's expression turning sad.

"They're... gone."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"Don't apologize, you did not know," Ella replied, sitting on the short wall surrounding the courtyard, which overlooked the ocean. Sansa joined her moments later. "It was ten years ago. I was only eleven when they were murdered. I don't remember much, except for waking up to the smell of fire, and Draco carrying me to safety.

"What were they like?"

"My father, Diomedes, owned a mill. He and Draco had always got along extremely well; I suppose that, in part, due to Draco being his eldest son."

"He's firstborn?"

"Aye, he is. I was born almost nine years after him, and our little brother, Nero, was born about four years after me. Our mother, Ophelia, was about the kindest woman you would ever meet."

"I'm sorry you lost them. They sound like they were good people," Sansa said, sympathizing with her.

"Thank you, Lady Sansa. I appreciate that."

"My family... they are fighting against King Joffrey."

"Yes, I've heard about it. They are rebelling after what happened to your father. I never knew him, but, from what I have heard, he was an honorable man.

"He was, but the King and his mother are not. Joffrey promised me he would grant my father mercy, but instead he had him beheaded. And then, he made me look at his head and that of our people here: he said he had given him a clean death, and that was him showing mercy." She paused. "I hate him," she whispered, surprising herself.

Meanwhile, Ella felt her blood boiling. It was bad enough that Sansa's father had been beheaded unjustly... but to make her look at his severed head was nothing but the action of an evil tyrant. And who knew what else the psychotic boy would get up to in the future. She figured she could soothe Sansa by telling her what she and Draco had discussed.

"Lady Sansa, I am going to tell you something, but it must remain between us."

"What is it?" Sansa asked, curious.

"My brother and I are working on a way to get you out of this city and back with your family." By the look on her face, Ella could tell that this was the best thing Sansa had heard since she had been taken hostage in King's Landing.

"Th-thank you! I... I don't even know what to say," she replied, grateful. Normally, she would not believe such a promise, but she trusted Ella and Draco, because the two of them, along with Tyrion, were perhaps the only people that gave a damn about her in this city: Draco, who had stood up for her in the courtroom, and Ella, who was teaching her how to defend herself.

"I wasn't going to tell you until we had a surefire plan, but I figured you deserved to know. But, you must promise me that you will not say a word about this to anyone. If the wrong ears listen, it could put us in danger."

"I promise."

Ella smiled and stood up. "Now, what do you say we practice some more?"

* * *

 **That night**

"He says it alone could destroy the majority of Stannis' fleet," Draco said as he walked with Ella through the Red Keep halls. He had told her of what he had discussed with Tyrion about Stannis' impending attack on King's Landing, and how he had agreed to help defend the city when the time came, as a way to repay Tyrion for all the help he had provided them. He had left his other plans, the ones about how to smuggle Sansa out of King's Landing, unsaid, until they got to his room to discuss them in private.

"And, you think it will work?"

"Lord Tyrion is convinced that it will. I am not quite sure if the plan will work, but he does seem to know what he is doing," he replied, before stopping in front of the door. It was obvious someone had forced it open: the handle was busted and laying on the floor, and the door itself was slightly ajar. However, the question was if someone was within still: Draco could easily find out.

"Stand back," he told Ella. " _LAAS YAH NIR_ ," he whispered: several red forms of energy materialized at the other side of the door. "This should be fun."

"How many?" Ella asked as she grabbed her bow from her back and nocked an arrow. Draco drew Dragonbane and readied himself.

"At least six."

Draco kicked the door open, revealing to him that two Kingsguards, one of whom he recognized as Meryn Trant, accompanied by four Lannister soldiers, were waiting for them in the room, their weapons bared and ready for a fight.

Ella immediately shot her arrow, hitting one of the Lannister men in the neck, killing him instantly. Draco's sword flashed and decapitated a second Lannister before he could even react, and a third fell to yet another arrow. The remaining Lannister soldier charged at Ella and swung at her head, but she quickly rolled out of the way and unsheathed her ebony dagger, which she used to stab the man in the back of the knee. When the soldier dropped to his knee in pain, she stabbed him through the neck, ending his life.

Meanwhile, Draco faced off against the two Kingsguards, recognizing the other as Boros Blount.

"Talyn Mant, isn't it? How's your throat?" Draco mocked, knowing the honorless knight would be easily angered by his jab.

" _Ser Meryn Trant!_ " he screeched and, along with his comrade, charged at Draco... just as Draco had been expecting. When Trant swung, Draco easily ducked and caught the knight's arm, using his strength to break it, causing the knight to yell in pain and drop his sword. With his Blade of Woe, he stabbed Trant through his chin, straight into the brain, killing him almost instantly.

The other Kingsguard tried to catch him unaware and hack him to pieces, but Draco managed to stop the attack by using Trant's armored corpse as a shield, distracting Blount long enough that Draco could easily get close enough and break the man's jaw with a swift punch. Another stabbing brought the man to the ground, feeling pain like few things before, and one swift swing separated his head from his neck.

Everything had taken place in but a few seconds, but it had felt for somewhat longer. The two siblings kept their weapons bare, ready to defend themselves if someone else came after them, but a few minutes later they relaxed.

"It seems that the Boy King wants us dead," Draco said as he turned to face his sister.

"Him... or that cunt he has for mother."

"Either way, I think it is high time we pay them a visit. It is time they learned who the hell they are really dealing with."


	6. Revelations

**Revelations**

* * *

 **A/N:** This chapter gave me absolute hell! It just would not come out the way I wanted it to, and I had to rewrite it several times. But I am pretty satisfied with this version, so this is the version I decided to go with.

The next chapter, I think, will be much simpler, so it shouldn't take nearly as long to get out.

But anyways, here is the next chapter! Enjoy!

* * *

 **King's Landing**

After carefully disposing of the bodies, Draco and Ella made their way to the King's private chambers, tailing an unsuspecting guard as he made his patrol across the Red Keep. Standing outside their objective, Draco pressed an ear against the door, so he could ascertain whether the boy king and his foolish mother were aware that their attempt to harm him and his sister had failed.

"Those incompetent fools should be back by now!" a childish, petulant voice said with anger and impatience coloring his words. Draco easily recognized it as the tyrant boy king's voice.

"Do not worry, my son, I am sure Ser Meryn and Ser Boros will be back with their heads before too long," another voice replied, this one female and older, which Draco assumed had to be the Queen's. "If Lord Vitellus is as capable of fighting as that wretch seems to think, he has probably put up a fight, him and his sister."

"They had better not fail me! I will not tolerate the level of disrespect and humilliation they showed me in my own courtroom! In my own city!" the boy screeched, his anger rising as he continued to shout, enough for the siblings to hear. Both couldn't help but be amused by how easily the boy got riled up. Draco removed his ear from the door and turned to his sister.

"Looks like they were both in on the attack. Poorly done. I mean, if they wanted us out of the picture, they should have sent actual soldiers with some knowledge about fighting, instead of that bunch of bootlickers that wielded those swords worse than a common bandit," he said, causing her to chuckle. "Not that it would have done much good, but, still."

"Well, they aren't exactly known for their brains, from what I have seen," Ella stated.

"True enough," Draco said. Regardless of what they thought, though, they were about to learn just who it was that they were messing with.

Draco pulled his lockpick set from one of the pouches hooked onto his belt and knelt in front of the door, starting to work on unlocking it. Fortunately, during his adventuring across Skyrim, he had extensively trained his skills with picking locks, with the various Dwemer ruins being his main 'victims' – and this door, much to his surprise, was woefully simple to unlock, which he did within moments, and he slowly opened the door.

Neither the boy king nor his mother seemed to notice that the door had been opened. Joffrey was pacing back and forth, obviously furious, and the Queen Regent was simply sitting at a table, sipping a glass cup of deep red wine, which made him grin as an amusing idea made its way into his mind.

"Think you can know that glass out of her hand with an arrow, sister?" he asked Ella in a daring tone. Not that he would be surprised by the result: he had seen her make much harder shots several times.

"That? Piece of cake," she replied, rolling her eyes and smiling, as she removed her ebony bow from her back and nocked a simple iron arrow. Taking aim as easily as if she was just looking at it, she let the arrow go. The projectile flew and hit the cup out of Cersei's hands, shattering it into pieces as it fell to the floor.

That was when Draco audibly drew his sword from its sheath, causing Joffrey and Cersei to nearly jump out of their skin when they simultaneously looked in the direction the arrow had come from and saw the siblings on the other side of the room, their weapons drawn

"Are we... unexpected, Your Grace?" Draco asked mockingly as he and Ella started to close the gap between themselves and the Lannisters. "Perhaps you were, instead, waiting for those _pathetic_ assassins of yours, if you could even call them that."

Grabbing the bag slung over his shoulder, he threw it towards the two royals, in a way he knew would make its contents fall out.

Joffrey turned green and began to retch when he realized that what he was seeing were the heads of the six men he had sent to kill the Vitellius siblings. The Queen simply stared wide eyed at the siblings, and looked both as disgusted as her son and as if she wanted to speak up, but she could not find her voice

 _Not so fun when it is so personal, is it?_ Draco thought.

"You think you are some great king of a great country?" Draco asked, venom dripping from his voice as the bile dripped from the now dry-heaving boy king. "No, you are not. You are just a petty little milk drinker that is too much of a coward to get his hands dirty that only rules in this backwards country because better people allow you."

And, as Joffrey turned to look at Draco, Dragonbane flashed and its tip cut deep across the boy king's face: blood began to ooze out of the freshly made wound, and Joffrey started to scream in pain.

Cersei instinctively grabbed a knife from the table and tried to charge at Draco in an effort to defend her son. Draco did not react: instead, it was Ella that responded, unsheathing her ebony dagger and almost lazily knocking the knife out of the Queen Regent's hand. Only a second later, the dagger was at Cersei's throat.

"That would not have been a very wise move, Your Grace," she said, knowing quite well that, even in the very unlikely case she had managed to strike Draco, it would have had little to no effect on him. Cersei would be lucky if all she did was to just anger him even more. Draco, in the meantime, continued to glare at the boy king, whose face was starting to pale from the blood loss.

"You see, boy, back where I live, hundreds upon hundreds have tried to kill me. Many of them were far better than anything you have here. And every single one of them is now a corpse rotting over the ground. You? You don't even rank as a _nuisance_." Draco drew breath, and then he shouted. "GAAN LAH HAAS!"

Immediately, Joffrey's breathing started to slow down, and life itself seemed to fade from his body, which was obvious by the now ashen coloring of his face. Draco stepped forward and grabbed the boy by his shirt's lapels, trying not to breathe too deeply to avoid smelling the boy's vomit.

"Now, you listen to me, _very_ closely. The only reason I have not taken your head off like I did your pathetic guards is because I am not a fool. I know how much of a target I would become, and I would really rather avoid having to fight the entire guard or level this entire city, because, you see, it's simply not worth the hassle. And besides, I already promised your uncle Tyrion I would help defend this shit pile of a city of yours when Stannis comes, and I am not going to break my word, especially because of an upjumped infantile tyrant like you. So, let this be a warning to you. If you try to do this again, I promise I will not be so lenient." Draco pushed him away and then grabbed a healing potion out of another of his armor's pouches, putting it on the table.

"Drink it, it will ease the pain and stop the bleeding," he said as he started to walk towards the door. "Or don't. It doesn't matter to me either way."

Ella slowly moved her dagger away from the Queen Regent's throat and stepped back.

"Perhaps you should see to your son, _Your Grace_ ," she said mockingly, and she followed her brother out of the room, leaving the distraught and shaking Cersei to begin nursing her son's wounds.

* * *

 **Fort Dawnguard, The Rift**

The war against the Volkihar vampire clan had cost the Dawnguard much. Among their losses had been Isran, their founder and the man that had brought them back together when the vampire threat had become obvious once more, who had died in the battle at Castle Volkihar, the one that had ended with most of the clan's death. Only two of them remained alive: Serana, the now former vampire who had helped them eliminate them, and her mother Valerica, who had returned to Castle Volkihar and taken residence within, without causing any problems.

Harkon Volkihar's death, however, had not meant the end of the vampires: even though the Dawnguard had emerged victorious, there were still too many vampires roaming Skyrim that still posed a huge threat to innocent towns and villages. Some kept to themselves, trying not to call too much attention, but others fell in with bandits and even enthralled them to gain more food sources. It was the Dawnguard's duty to eliminate these vampires, and that was what they were continuing to do.

Now, it was Gunmar's task to lead them. Some believed it would be Draco Vitellius who held that rank, but he had declined, stating that he did not have the full time to dedicate himself to the Dawnguard, and had nominated Gunmar to the position, which he had accepted. As he sat at a table, going over reports of various vampire sightings – which had become more common in the past few days, more than normal, but nothing out of the ordinary – someone knocked on his door.

"Excuse me, Gunmar?" a feminine voice called out. Gunmar looked up from his reports to see Sorine Jurard, the Dawnguard's Dwemer expert and crossbow crafter. It had been her who had made all the crossbows that were part of a Dawnguard's uniform, and it had been her who had upgraded all of them to become the more lethal, faster reloading and more accurate Dwemer version they now used. Those crossbows had literally saved many lives during the war against the Volkihar.

"Yes, Sorine? What is it?"

"This letter arrived for you just a few moments ago," she said, waving a piece of parchment she was holding in her hand.

"Who's it from?" Gunmar asked as he stood up and took the letter.

"I am not sure," Sorine replied, shrugging.

Unsheathing his steel dagger from his belt, Gunmar cut the sealed letter open and began to read its contents. A minute later, he looked up and back at Sorine, his face a demonstration of surprise.

"It's from Draco," he said.

"It's not like him to send a letter; usually he comes on foot to visit us. What is he up to?"

"Well, for starters, he's not even in Skyrim right now, he's across the sea in Westeros. And secondly, he needs our help to deal with a problem back there."

"Vampires? All the way over there?" Sorine assumed. Gunmar shook his head.

"Not vampires, but something just as dangerous. Looks like some beings called 'White Walkers' are starting to return after millenia away." He handed the letter back to Sorine, and she read it before turning her head back to Gunmar.

"So, should we head to this Castle Black, like Draco suggests?"

Gunmar nodded "I know Draco. If he believes it's a threat, then it most likely is. From what he describes, these Walkers have the potential to pose an even greater threat than the vampires, and their ability to make 'wights', which I guess must be akin to our draugr, is bad enough."

He walked over to the locked chest in his room, and opened it to reveal its contents, the deadliest weapons the Dawnguard had ever had at its disposal: Auriel's Bow and Shield, and the Rune Axe, Shield and Hammer Florentius had located in his various visits to the many Dwemer ruins in Skyrim.

"We are going to need these," he said, grabbing the Rune weapons for himself, and handing Auriel's Bow, along with the stock of special arrows that Draco had brought, to Sorine. "You are our best marksman, even if you are not as good with the bow as with the crossbow. Would you be kind enough to ask everyone to meet in the main hall?"

Sorine nodded, and Gunmar left his office.

"Alright, listen up, everyone! Drop whatever you are doing and form up in the main hall!" Gunmar's voice boomed. It was not long before the three hundred members of the Dawnguard were gathered in the hall, curious about what their leader had called them for.

"Time is of the essence, so I will go straight to the important part," Gunmar said. "Our friend Draco, whom I assume most of you know, has just written to me from the land in the east known as Westeros. Apparently, there is a growing threat of dangerous beings known as White Walkers north of their Wall. Draco requests us to go there and help boost their defenses."

"What are these White Walkers?" Agmaer, once a green recruit, now one of their most skilled warriors, asked the question being on everyone's mind.

"There is not much known about them. It is claimed they are made of ice, and they can raise any corpse as a wight, something similar to our draugr. However, they are said to be vulnerable to fire, much like vampires, and there might be other weaknesses"

"So, I guess we are heading to Westeros, then?" Durak, an Orc that had become something of a famous person in the Dawnguard since he was the one that had convinced Draco to aid them, inquired. Gunmar nodded.

"Correct. I know some of you probably believe that it's a risk to travel all the way across the sea to combat something we know little about, but if they are as big a threat as Draco believes, then we'd be fools to ignore it. However, not all of us will leave; some will remain behind to guard the Fort and try to fight off the vampires." He paused, looking over his companions. "Florentius, you are coming, since I have no doubt we will have need of your healing abilities. Sorine, you are coming as well, your markmanship will come in handy. Celann, you are in charge while we are away. Everyone else, let's decide who stays and who goes, and begin to gather whatever food, weapons or anything else you think you will need to survive. We leave for Windhelm in the morning."

* * *

 **King's Landing**

From his room in the Red Keep, Draco was now planning out potential escape routes out of King's Landing. Until the time to act came, he had plenty of time to map out the city, which was what had kept him most busy pretty much every day. Once his allies and friends arrived, which should happen some time in the following week, he would go over his plans with them and figure out which way would work best.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard a knock at the door, immediately followed by someone speaking.

"Lord Vitellius," Tyrion Lannister said. Draco stood up and opened the door.

"Lord Tyrion, Bronn," he greeted the two men. "To what do I owe this?"

"It's almost time for Princess Myrcella's departure for Dorne. You will still join us in seeing her off, I trust?"

"Of course." Draco grabbed Dragonbane, which was currently leaning against a wall, and attached it to his belt, leaving the room to follow Tyrion and Bronn to the docks. That was when Tyrion started to speak.

"I hear you and your sister paid a very interesting to the Queen Regent and the King," he said as they walked. "Quite the scar my nephew wears now on his face, isn't it?"

Draco could tell that Tyrion did not seem the least bit angry, but just rather curious. However, he still felt the need to defend his actions.

"Those two tried to have us killed. They sent two Kingsguards and a group of thugs after us. It demanded a response."

"Oh, don't mistake me, I do not hold it against you. On the contrary, I wish I had been there to see it first hand. It's about time someone taught my nephew some manners. And besides, from what I've seen of you, I would have been surprised if you had let it go."

The three continued to walk, before Draco spoke again.

"By the way, I have dealt with the reinforcements the Wall needed."

"How so?"

"I reached out to a group in Tamriel I've worked with in the past, one known as the Dawnguard. They specialize in undead threats and are some of the best warriors my homeland has to offer, so I hope they will be able to help.

"That's excellent news. They weren't going to be getting any reinforcements from the capital, that's for certain."

As they arrived at the docks on their horses, they noticed the number of people around had grown considerably, which made Tyrion uneasy. Draco could see his sister conversing with Sansa and Shae, Sansa's handmaiden, and Princess Myrcella was being led to the boat that would take her to Dorne, tears threatening to leak from her eyes. Tommen was far less controlled, in tears at seeing his sister preparing to sail away. Cersei was certainly distraught at seeing her only daughter taken away, and Joffrey was rather indifferent to the whole thing, just standing there with the same angry scowl he always had, his new scar visible against his pale face.

Draco walked up to his sister, while Tyrion joined Cersei on a ledge near her. As the boy king looked around, bored, his gaze crossed with Draco's, who immediately glared at him. Joffrey shot him a quick, fearful glance before turning back to face the boat. Draco smiled in amusement. Then, Ella turned to Draco.

"Is it just me, or do the people seem... angry?"

Draco looked around.

"It's not just you, Ella. I've noticed it, too," he answered. "Be ready for a fight. Things might get hairy when we return to the Red Keep."

A chubby man who looked to be on his fifties and seemed to be some sort of religious leader, given his garb and his lit incenser, stepped forward and began to recite what Draco could only assume was some sort of prayer.

"May the Seven guid the Princess on her journey. May the Mother give her health. May the Crone give her wisdom. May the Warrior give her courage. May the Smith give her strength."

With those words said, Myrcella, along with one of the Kingsguards, boarded the ship, and its crew began to prepare the ship for leaving.

As Draco stood there, watching, he overheard the boy king speaking.

"You sound like a little cat mewling for its mother. Princes don't cry."

Draco turned to see that Joffrey was scolding his younger brother, and glared at him. He was not the least bit surprised that Joffrey was a heartless little brat, even to his own family. Seeing that the Queen was not up to the task of consoling her youngest son, he decided he should: after all, he knew all too well the feeling of family leaving. He approached the young boy and knelt next to him.

"You'll see her again."

"I... hope so," Tommen answered, wiping a tear from his eye. Even if he was still upset, it was clear, from the tone of his voice, that he found some solace in Draco's words.

"Don't worry, she's not leaving forever. Your uncle is just sending her somewhere that is safe for the time being."

Tommen nodded and stood there, waiting as the boat left the docks, upon which moment the crowds began to disperse.

"Come, dog," Joffrey ordered his bodyguard and stormed off, while Tommen nodded in silent thanks at Draco and followed his mother and uncle through the gates.

It was not long after that Draco joined his sister, Sansa and Shae, that everyone else followed them into the city, and soon Draco knew there would be trouble, as the commoners began to shout it what was obviously a sarcastic tone.

"Hail, Joffrey!" a man shouted.

"All hail the King!" a few others shouted at the same time.

"Seven blessings to you, Your Grace!" another commoner shouted.

"Please, Your Grace, we're hungry!" a man screamed, leaning over a stone railing.

Draco felt the thousands of eyes that were on them. Some were filled with despair, some were filled with sadness, but most were filled with anger. Cold, unbridled anger. He placed his hand on Dragonbane's pommel, ready to unsheathe it at a moment's notice. He did not want to kill any of these people who the king had obviously turned a blind eye to, but he would if he had to in order to protect those in his charge.

Tyrion noticed the growing tension as well, and turned to a nearby Lannister soldier.

"Get Prince Tommen back to the Keep at once," he said, and the soldier nodded, taking the young boy into a side street.

Just in time, as but a few moments later, a small, dark object flew through the air and hit Joffrey's face, making a splattered sound as it made impact. Almost immediately, the Hound and all the Goldcloaks drew their swords.

"Who threw that?" Joffrey yelled angrily, his face dripping the shit he had been hit with. "Find whoever threw that and bring him to me!"

The Goldcloaks tried to get through the crowd, but the sight of their king being hit seemed to spark them, and they blocked the passage of the city guard.

"Just kill them! Kill them all!" the boy king ordered, impatient.

Not a second later, complete and utter chaos erupted. The entire crowd began to push back against the guards, and threw rocks against them and the royal family. Knowing they were going to be overwhelmed, the Gold Cloaks led Cersei and Tyrion to the Red Keep, while the Hound grabbed Joffrey and harshly pulled him through the rioters, slashing with his sword at anyone who seemed to be threatening his charge.

"What are you doing?" Joffrey screeched. "I want these people executed!"

"They want the same thing for you, _Your Grace_ ," the Hound snapped as he continud hauling Joffrey through the angry crowd.

Eventually, the group managed to get to the Red Keep, albeit out of breath, but with some losses on the way to the rioters. As he breathed in, Draco looked around and noticed that neither Ella nor Sansa were anywhere in sight – and he panicked, realizing that they must have got separated from the main group.

"Where's my sister? Where's Ella?" he asked.

"I don't know, I haven't seen her since the riot started. And where is Lady Sansa?" Tyrion replied, just as panicked as him.

"SHIT!" Draco yelled, and he charged back out of the Keep. He did not know what he would do if something were to happen to Ella... the only thing he was sure of, was that there was not a single person that would be safe from his wrath. Several rioters tried to attack him when they saw him, but Draco used Dragonbane to cut them down, and when another threw a rock at him, he stabbed the man right through the heart.

"Ella!" he called out as he continued fighting through the mob, cutting down anyone in his way. "Sansa!"

* * *

Elsewhere, someone was doing something similar, with not much success.

"Draco!" Ella called out, to no avail. She could barely hear herself above the sound of the rioters, so there was no way anyone else would hear her screams. At least she had managed to get Sansa out. The girl seemed to be scared, which she could not fault her for.

"Follow me, Sansa, and stay right on my heels!" she ordered, and she began to lead the young girl through the crowds. Unsheathing her ebony dagger, she slashed open the neck of a rioter that was advancing on her, and when another lunged at her, she quickly threw the dagger at him, driving it into his heart.

As she retrieved the dagger, a group of rioters got between her and Sansa, and after getting through them, she saw Sansa, chased by a few men, running into a nearby side street. Without stopping, she pushed her way and started running after them: she did not even need to be there to know what these men were planning to do.

* * *

Sansa was filled with panic when she found that the street she had tried to escape into was a dead end. As the men advanced on her, she slapped one of them in the face, but that was returned with a swift back hand with such force that it knocked her to the ground.

"You ever been fucked, little girl?" one of her attackers asked, menacingly, as he knelt in an attempt to rip her clothes off.

 _You never know when you will need to defend yourself_ , Ella's words rang in her ears. Without thinking, she reached for the dagger attached to her hip and stabbed at the man through his neck, killing him instantly.

Before anyone could even react at what had happened, an arrow whizzed through the air and punctured another man right through the head, immediately followed by another that killed the remaining man. Sansa looked up and saw Ella standing at the street's other side, bow in hand.

"Are you well?" Ella asked as she helped Sansa to her feet.

"I... I killed someone," Sansa answered, still in shock at the fact that she had taken a life. Ella said nothing: she just recovered those arrows that were still useful and Sansa's dagger and got the girl to follow her towards the street's mouth, where they were met with a familiar face.

"Draco!" Ella said, hugging her brother.

"Are you two alright?" he asked, worried.

"I don't know," Ella replied, looking at Sansa. Draco saw she did not look to be in any physical pain, but her distraught face was for all to see, and he immediately knew that the Northern girl had had to kill someone.

"Let's get back to the Keep," he said, knowing that important talk should wait until they were in a safe place. "Both of you, follow me, and don't get separated."

Fighting their way back, the three managed to reach the Red Keep, although having to kill several more rioters on the way. When they finally reached the gate, it took Draco all but ramming through the gates so they would open them for him.

"Thank the gods," Tyrion said when he saw them pretty much unharmed. "Are you three in good health?"

"We are fine as can be," Ella answered.

"Thank you, Lord Vitellius," Tyrion said.

"No need to thank me. They had already saved themselves by the time I got there," Draco replied.

"Regardless, all that matters is that everyone important is still in one piece."

* * *

 **Later that day**

Thoughts were flowing through Draco's mind as he walked through the halls of the Red Keep.

He thought of the many rioters that had died in the day, several of which by his own hand. It had been self-defense, but it still bothered him, because it was easy to see that they were suffering much, and yet the King had turned a blind eye to them, even though a king was supposed to look after his people.

He also thought of what Sansa's state of mind was after killing someone. A girl of Sasna's upbringing, who had never even handled a blade for a reason, suddenly having to do so... It was quite fortunate that Ella was there, and that she was doing her best to help Sansa work through the worst of it. Draco remembered all too well how, when he went out on his first adventure, how he would regret killing anyone even when they were trying to kill him first. Now, however, he had killed so many people that it had no effect on him anymore.

His thoughts were interrupted by a voice from behind him.

"Excuse me, Lord Vitellius!"

Draco turned to see a young boy, one that looked to be in his early teens, running towards him with what appeared to be a sealed letter.

"What is it?" he asked as the young boy halted right next to him.

"I... have... a note... for you..." the boy replied, all the while trying to catch his breath. Draco took the note from him, and tried to look at it to ascertain who it could be from. Unfortunately, the seal used on the letter told him nothing, and there was no writing on the outside.

"Who is it from?"

The boy just shook his head.

"I don't know, m'lord. He had a hood on, he only told me I had to bring this letter to you, and tell you that he could help you."

"Well, thank you, then. What's your name, boy?"

"Umm... Tom, m'lord," he answered. Draco reached into his pocket and pulled out a small sack he knew had about fifteen septims.

"Here, Tom," he said, handing the sack to the boy. "For the trouble."

"Thank you, m'lord!" Tom said and headed back the same way he had come from.

As soon as he was alone, Draco opened the letter and read its contents:

 _I have information that will help you in your journey. Meet me in the passageway next to the kitchens at midnight._

 _V._

An interesting enigma, this. Who was this mysterious V? Did they really want to help him, or was it actually a plot against him? Either way, he figured it might be wise to meet with whoever this person was, if they truly did want to help him.

* * *

 **Midnight**

Draco was met with almost pitch blackness as he entered the door leading to the passageway. From the quiet and lack of sound, he seemed to be alone, but one could never be certain: years of entering catacombs where draugr liked to appear from nowhere were a good teacher. As silently as possible, he unsheathed Dragonbane, and willed his other hand to prepare his fire spell, to illuminate the darkness.

Continuing to walk around the room, he saw no soul... until he heard footsteps coming from behind him. Rapidly, he spun around, expertly placing the end of Dragonbane's blade at the neck of the hooded figure that had approached him from behind.

"Wise is the man who is always prepared for anything," the hooded figure said, removing his hood, and Draco got a clear look at the man's face. "There is no need for weapons, however. I am unarmed."

"Lord Varys," Draco replied, surprised, sheathing his sword and willing the fire away.

"I am pleased you decided to take my invitation seriously, Lord Vitellius."

"What did you wish to meet with me for?"

Varys folded his arms.

"Because it seems to me, we may share similar goals. I know you were sent here to investigate the White Walkers. Most believe them to be fables and tales, and doubt that they even existed in the first place, but I happen to be a suspicious man, and I _do_ believe they are returning. It is no mistake that you were sent here, and, if they are to be stopped, then you will need all the help you can get," he said, cryptically.

"So, what do you propose?"

"In the first place, are you familiar with the sack of King's Landing?"

"I just know it's what finished Robert's Rebellion and led to Robert Baratheon's crowning, but little more."

"Allow me to put an end to your ignorance, then. Tywin Lannister, our Queen's father, had once been Hand of the King, but left the position after Aerys raised his heir, Ser Jaime Lannister, to the Kingsguard, thus robbing him of his heir. After Robert Baratheon rose up, Lord Tywin did not declare for either Aerys nor Robert, but when Prince Rhaegar fell in the Battle of the Trident, Tywin called his banners and reached King's Landing before the rebels could. Aerys believed that Lord Tywin was there to help and had the gates opened, but then Tywin betrayed that trust and ordered the city to be sacked, as a show of faith to the soon to be King Robert Baratheon. House Targaryen was all but destroyed, which pleased Robert, but these actions earned him and House Lannister the hatred of a good part of the Realm, especially House Martell."

"Why?"

"During the sack of the city, Princess Elia Martell, wife – or, rather, widow – to Prince Rhaegar, as well as her children, were all brutally murdered by Ser Gregor Clegane and Ser Amory Lorch, Lord Tywin's attack dogs. While Lorch brutally stabbed Elia's daughter, Rhaenys, in her bed, Clegane smashed the infant Aegon's head against a wall, and afterwards proceeded to rape Elia and finally cut her in half with his greatsword."

Hearing this, Draco was filled with an almost uncontrollable fury, clenching his fist and unable to control his shaking. Had these Ser Gregor and Ser Amory been standing in front of him, he would have ripped them to shreds.

Yes, he had done some unsavory things as part of the Dark Brotherhood, but never to that extent. And even then, he had always allowed whoever the target of the contract was a chance to defend themselves. What kind of monster would kill two innocent children right in front of their mother, especially a babe? And then proceeding to rape and murder said woman almost immediately after? This was someone who deserved nothing but death.

"Why are you telling me this?" Draco asked, trying to rein in his fury.

"Because, if you were to kill Ser Gregor and then present his head to Prince Doran Martell, I guarantee Dorne would be more than willing to aid you in fighting the White Walkers."

"I will kill him with my bare hands, if need be" Draco said, eager to tear that bastard to shreds.

"And, going back to the matter at hand, I know the Others aren't the only reason you are here," Varys continued. "You are also here because of the dragons that now belong to Daenerys Targaryen."

Draco jumped back in surprise, his fury forgotten.

"How do you even know that?"

"I know everything that goes on in this city. I also happen to know you and your sister recently paid a visit to King Joffrey, and that you possess abnormal... magical abilities." Draco was not sure, but he could swear Varys almost faltered at the mention of magic. "Even your voice carries such power."

It was obvious there was no point in denying it, not when he had done magic openly but a few moments ago.

"It's true," he said.

"There is no need to be alarmed, Lord Vitellius. I am not your enemy." Varys then reached into his sleeve and pulled out a scroll, which he handed to Draco. "Hold onto it."

"What's this?" Draco asked, taking the scroll.

"I assume you will make your way to Essos at some point. When you do, visit my acquaintance in Pentos, Magister Illyrio Mopatis. If you give him this scroll and tell him 'the time has come', he will relinquish Blackfyre, the ancestral sword of House Targaryen, to you, so that you can deliver it to Daenerys."

Varys began walking out of the room, but Draco still had one last question.

"Why help me?"

"Because, now more than ever, the realm needs stability," Varys answered as he left the room, leaving a somewhat confused Draco wondering what, exactly, the eunuch spymaster was up to.

* * *

 **A/N:** And there you have it. I tried not to leave it on a cliffhanger since I feel like I have been overusing them, and I understand how frustrating cliffhangers can be sometimes.

And for those wondering, "Tom" is a character from the Game of Thrones game made by Telltale that I decided to add in this chapter. If you have not played it, I really recommend you do, it is really good! And I also plan to add several more characters from the game into the story.

I also want to give a shout out to Angry lil' Elf for the idea with Varys at the end. I had already planned on Draco acquiring Blackfyre and forging an alliance with Dorne, but I still have to thank Angry lil' Elf for the idea on how I went about it.

And also, I am going to be working on another story at some point in the near future. It will be a crossover between The Walking Dead and Fallout 4, taking place in the Commonwealth. So keep your eyes open for it!

I hope you enjoyed the chapter and I will see you all next time, hopefully much sooner!


	7. Announcement!

**Hello my readers!**

 **I know it's been quite a while, and you were probably hoping for a new chapter, but unfortunately, that's not what this is. After a lot of thought, I have decided to rewrite this story from scratch. There are several reasons for this decision:**

 **-A lot of people have been commenting, via review and pm, that the current version is too similar to another fanfiction on here. I have been skimming through the other story, and I have to agree with you. I didn't realize just how similar it was, and I don't want to be known as someone who is unoriginal and copies other stories.**

 **-I am having too much difficulty writing decent chapters starting during Season 2 as opposed to season 1, and I don't feel like I have much creative freedom at this point.**

 **-It will now start in season 1 territory as opposed to season 2 territory, since there are a few things I would like to change in the season 1 timeline that I obviously can't if I'm starting during season 2.**

 **-I have been discussing other ideas with another author on here, and they are much more creative than what I had planned.**

 **Again, sorry to disappoint you all, but this decision really is for the benefit of the story. I will have some of the same characters, like Draco, Ella, and Nazir, but I am also adding several more characters into the mix.**

 **So I am asking you all to give me one more chance to get this story right!**


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